


Dragon Age: The Musical

by kbello



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkwardness, Dancing, Dorian is the best BFF, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, I Don't Even Know, Modern Era, Musicals, Panic Attacks, Singing, Slow Burn, So Wrong It's Right, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 17:02:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3818098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kbello/pseuds/kbello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“She’s going to blow you away,” he could hear Varric mumble behind him to no one in particular.</p><p>The song began and she folded her shaking hands in front of her and peered down at her feet. Solas had seen several people blunder their performances that day because of their nerves, so surely the stumbling Dalish girl from the park would be a similar case. Varric was most likely being kind because they appeared to be acquaintances. As she drew a first breath, he looked down at his notebook to begin writing notes.</p><p>  <i>“Think of me, think of me fondly when we’ve said goodbye…”</i></p><p>His pen halted in place before he had a chance to scribble her name across the paper.</p><p> </p><p>Varric makes everyone do a musical. I'm not kidding.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Phantom

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know. It happened and I can't make it stop. Join me on this strange journey.

“Table four needs bussed- the women’s bathroom needs mopped again, that blasted toilet keeps backing up- appetizers ready for table twelve, Leliana- Sera, off your phone- Cole stop- STOP!”

CRASH. 

A plastic tub of dishes went flying into the air and now lay broken across the floor leading into the kitchen, next to it a young man was sprawled on his backside and staring through his long blonde strands with big, innocent eyes.

Life was always interesting at Haven, the local bar and grill, especially when the summer air brought a warm breeze and hungry customers looking for something to do on a Saturday night. The early evenings usually brought in families and your typical patrons. After the dinner rush, however, the younger crowds came looking for cold beer and socializing- two things Ellana Lavellan despised, which was interesting because she was the main bartender.

Ellana leaned behind the bar, her chin resting in her palm as she observed the last few dinner tables and enjoying her last minutes of rest before the inevitable late night crowd of rowdy college students made their way into Haven. She sighed heavily, closing her eyes and trying to drown out the sounds of the restaurant. There was a light chatter, the sound of the grill from the kitchen, someone tapping incessantly on their phone, the ballgame playing on the television screen hung on the wall behind her…

_Four more months,_ she thought to herself. _Four more months and I’ll finally be out of here. No more stress. No more working for tips. No more small-town bullshit._

She opened her cerulean eyes just in time to see a young boy walking hand-in-hand with his mother as they headed towards the exit. Ellana smiled at the boy who threw her a quick wave in return. His mother peered over her shoulder and scowled, mumbling the familiar words she had faced her entire life.

“Don’t talk to the _knife-ear_.”

It used to bother her much more when she was a young girl. Of course it was strange to be one of the few Dalish elves living in town. Everywhere she went she stuck out like a sore thumb- not because of her looks (she considered herself to be fairly average with her long chestnut hair and blue eyes) but because of her demeanor. She carried herself differently, especially from other elves, in the way she walked and talked. She was light and free, floating by as if carried by the wind. While she had always been shy, she still held herself with confidence and a sureness that radiated through her presence. She was strong, but quite light on her feet as her good friend Varric always liked to remind her. “Sneaky” he liked to call her, since she always had the habit of sneaking up on people, which could sometimes be used to her advantage.

Ellana rolled her eyes at the racial slur, standing up straight as she heard someone behind her barking out orders. Cullen was peering around the restaurant and speaking to anyone who walked by him. He always seemed to be under some sort of stress, she noted, as she saw the tall man run a hand through his short blonde curls out of habit. 

_Poor Cullen._

In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had seen him smile. He had been like this ever since she met him two years ago when he first opened Haven and they quickly became one of the most popular hangout spots in town. Perhaps the last time she really saw him smile was when the local paper wrote an excellent praise of a review several months ago. Or, perhaps when she accidentally kissed him at a house party they had both attended several weeks ago. She cringed at the thought.

_Oh, poor, poor Cullen._

It’s not that she wasn’t attracted to him. How could she not be? He was tall, muscular, and had a commanding voice with a slight softness that could catch anyone’s attention. However, there just wasn’t anything there when she had kissed him. There was no spark, even with the added influence of alcohol which was probably the only reason she had allowed it to happen in the first place. She had moved in suddenly as he was talking to her on the front porch, stopping him mid-sentence and taking him, and his mouth, by surprise. He leaned into her, even placed the hand that wasn’t holding a cold beer around her waist. As she pulled away and looked into his honey eyes- nothing. She felt nothing. She wanted to feel, knew he had secretly suppressed feelings for her since he had hired her as a bartender (of course he being one of the few business owners daring enough to hire on a Dalish elf, she felt most likely because of his attraction to her.)

Now they stood weeks later as if nothing had happened, not even once speaking about it. 

CRASH.

She watched Cole faceplant into the swinging kitchen door just as a waiter pushed from the other side, dropping his bus pan and shattering dishes all over the floor. Cullen heaved a heavy sigh, pushing his hand through his hair again before rolling up his sleeves.

“Cole, how many times have I told you?” he asked, but without harshness. “Please watch where you are going.”

“Sorry,” Cole said in his airy voice, scrambling to his knees to help pick up the broken glass. 

Ellana walked around the bar with a broom and dustpan in hand.

“Here, we got this Cullen, go ahead and finish what you’re doing,” she smiled, trying to lighten the mood. Cullen stepped out of the way, not quite returning the smile but still nodding in approval. Good enough.

As she began sweeping the glass and dropping it into the bus pan, she felt a cold hand touch her arm. She looked down, Cole reaching out for the broom.

“Let me help.”

“Cole, I’m helping _you_ ,” she said and he took his hand away.

“No,” he shook his head, “not that, I mean with Cullen.”

She froze for a moment, then resumed sweeping and pretended not to notice his comment. Cole was an interesting kid. He was extremely empathetic and always trying to intrude on matters of personal business. Everyone else in their close-knit group of friends tended to get irritated with him quickly and dismissive, but Ellana always found him to be extremely helpful and sweet. She loved to talk with him about things that were bothering her because he always offered her honest answers. But this she wasn’t quite ready to talk about.

“Please leave this one, Cole,” she muttered under her breath. 

“He watches you sometimes, when you aren’t looking. But you avoid looking,” he stated, much louder than she had hoped.

“ _Please_ , Cole,” she pleaded, looking around to ensure no one else had heard.

With the last bit of glass piled into the bin he stood, leaning into the swinging door that was now safe for him to pass through.

“If you want to talk about it, I am here,” he said before disappearing into the kitchen.

Ellana took in a deep breath, trying to rid of the pink she could feel burning into her cheeks, then headed back behind the bar. At the same time a squat, scruffy man with a short ponytail trudged through the front door and climbed onto a seat with a thump.

“Varric!” Ellana said cheerfully, filling a glass with his usual beer before he had a chance to order and setting it on a coaster in front of him. “About time, I’ve been waiting for my favorite customer. What’s new?”

The man grinned widely, raising the glass in the air then lifting it to his mouth and taking a quick sip. 

“Hey Sneaky! Got some good news to share,” he hoarse voice rang out merrily. He then looked around the fairly empty restaurant. “Where is everyone?”

“It’s been a stressful day,” she replied, hiding her hand as she pointed towards Cullen who was now unsuccessfully lecturing Sera, their hostess, for texting on her phone. Sera glared back, sticking out her tongue before making an obscene gesture as Cullen walked away.

Varric nodded, taking another sip of his beer. “Ah, well, I’m too excited to wait and share so I’ll go ahead and tell ya. So you know the old theater I used to work at up town?”

She nodded, watching as a group of young girls walked through the front door and headed towards the bar. “Yeah, the one you used to direct musical and plays at, right?”

“That’s the one! You know how they closed it down about a year ago when the owner put it up for sale? Well, someone just bought it and I’ve just spoken with the new owner. She wants us to produce a musical this fall!”

Ellana smiled at the new customers, handing them menus and asking their drink orders before returning to the conversation.

“Did I just hear you say the word us?” she asked, eyeing him hesitantly.

“Oh, come on kid! You can’t expect me to put on a show without you.”

“Varric, last time was such a disaster. I can’t go through that added stress again.”

It was true, the last time Varric tried to produce a show it went up in flames. Literally. Some actor named Anders took his role of a psychopath a little too seriously and lit the place on fire on opening night. They had to evacuate the building and call the fire department and everything. Needless to say, that was their final performance at the theater. The owners were barely making enough profits as it was and having the lives of customers threatened didn’t help with ticket sales. The theater was put on the market and stayed that way ever since. Plus, Varric became so strict during practices that it wasn’t even fun anymore. Ellana was only a stagehand (despite her friends’ urging for her to audition) and she would often hide backstage, but the constant arguing between the directors and actors was still too much to bear. A part of her was relieved when the show was cut short.

“Besides,” she continued, “the acting company you worked with is performing in the city now. Where are you going to find all of your actors?”

“I’ve spoken to Bull, a buddy of mine. He said he has a group that’s eager for work,” he replied without skipping a beat.

“Alright. Well, what, are you going to direct it all _yourself_?” she asked, searching for anything to buy her time so she wouldn’t have to tell him no, because nobody could say no to Varric Tethras. 

“Got that all figured out too.” He took another sip and slammed his glass down triumphantly. “I met a guy who’s offered to help with production. I had lunch with him today and he said he’d do it all for free. Kind of an odd fellow, now that I think about it. He seemed really serious and was a little too into the history of the theater. But who can turn down free help, though, right?”

She sighed. “Okay, Varric. Let me think about it.”

He grinned that sly grin that was so endearing yet so frustrating at the same time because it told her that he knew he had already won.

 

\---

 

_When did I become such a pushover?_ Ellana fought internally the next morning as Varric’s news spread rapidly through their group of friends.

She sat cross legged on her favorite sofa chair, a plate of waffles resting on her lap as she sipped her fresh morning coffee that her heavy eyes were desperate for after another long night bartending. Leliana, her roommate, was lying face-first on the ground in front of her and pushing her torso to look up into the air. This was their typical morning ritual; Leliana practicing her yoga routine while Ellana ranted about work and life and just all of the things in general.

“I can’t believe someone finally bought the theater!” Leliana exclaimed unable to hold back her excitement. “Do you know what musical Varric is going to pick?”

Ellana stuffed her mouth with waffle goodness. “No. Nor do I care.”

“Don’t be such a party pooper,” Leliana said, adjusting her headband to hold back her short strawberry-blonde hair. 

“Come on, last time was such a disaster. You can’t pretend that you weren’t happy when they shut the place down,” Ellana mumbled bitterly behind her mouthful of food. 

“I wasn’t happy it was shut down,” Leliana’s soft voice rang out between deep breaths, “I rather enjoy the theater. The rush of performing in front of a large crowd.”  
“Of course you would, you’re graceful and good at dancing and singing and basically everything. You’re actually talented.”

Leliana smirked, now twisting into a complicated pose with such ease and Ellana’s own legs ached just from watching. The woman was a pretzel.

“Thanks. But so are you, Ellana. I hear you sing in the shower all the time, you have a beautiful voice.”

Ellana rolled her eyes. “You just want me to audition with you.”

“Of course I do. But you really are fantastic. You need to give yourself a chance. And besides,” Leliana added, “Varric begged you to audition last time. He even said he would give you a lead role.”

There was a scramble in the next room, causing the two women to look over as the bedroom door swung open. A young, muscular man came hopping through the doorway wearing only a blanket wrapped around his waist and an extremely embarrassed look on his face. He hobbled through the living room, grabbing a set of car keys that had been thrown on the floor.

Ellana bit down a giggle. “Hi Felix.”

The man nodded at her then waddled out the door to their apartment. At the same time, another man appeared from said bedroom, also shirtless but instead wearing a pair of pajama pants. The tall, tan man stretched, a smug look on his face and he walked forward and sat lazily on the couch across from Ellana.

“Fun night, Dorian?” Leliana asked and Ellana let out the suppressed giggles.

The man grinned from ear to ear, his fabulously manicured moustache stretching.

Leliana untwisted and turned to face him. “You let him stay the night this time.”

“Yes, well- sometimes being caught in the moment can lead to some hasty decisions. That, and a little too much brandy.”

Dorian was probably one of the most fascinating people Ellana had ever met in her life. She had first met him during her freshman year in college when he had arrived late to the first day of class but somehow managed to charm the pants off of their professor to avoid a scolding. (Later, she found out he literally charmed them _off_.) He was a great friend and always fun to be around. In a way, Ellana wished she could be like him- charismatic, outgoing, and unbelievably witty. They had also met Leliana in class, and the three quickly became friends. They were all three so different; Dorian his clever self, Leliana calming and intelligent, and Ellana quiet and reserved. Somehow they managed to round each other out perfectly.

“So what is this business I hear about Varric running another show?” Dorian asked while stealing a waffle from Ellana’s plate. “You going to audition with us this time?”

She groaned. “Not you too. Can we go back to talking about your secretive romance?”

“Darling, I’m sure you heard all about it last night,” he said and her face turned pink. What thin, thin walls they had in that apartment.

“We’re leaving you no options. You’re auditioning with us whether you like it or not. What show is it going to be, anyway?” he asked.

“Fine! Fine, I’ll audition. Only if it gets you hounds off of my back,” Ellana groaned, handing the rest of her breakfast to Dorian who gladly obliged.

_Ugh. Such a pushover._

“What show is it going to be this time?” he asked now with his own mouth full of waffles.

Just then, all three of their phones buzzed from a sudden group text message. There it was, a text message from Varric as if he were present in their conversation and answering without skipping a beat.

__

_-Get ready, everyone. Auditions set next Saturday. Phantom of the Opera.  
-Varric_

 

\---

 

Feet pattering against wet pavement, the fresh rain leaving a slick surface and small puddles splashing muddy water onto her bare calves. Ellana hated running- _despised_ probably being a more accurate description of her feelings. However her extremely hyperactive Siberian Husky left her little choice when he badgered her in the early mornings, nudging her with his wet nose and resting his head on her arm as she awoke groggily in her bed. She would slip on shorts, a tank top, and a pair of running shoes through half-lidded eyes because how could she say no to that sweet face?

In truth she was eager to find an excuse to get away from the apartment. For the last week, Dorian and Leliana had been persistently playing the same songs over and over again while preparing for auditions. They had somehow convinced her to audition for the role of Christine, and she swore that if she was forced to sing “Think of Me” one more time she might get stabby with someone. Dorian even forced her to sing “Phantom of the Opera” with him because he just “had to get it right” or because he loved the sound of his own voice. Most likely both. The man was very dedicated, she had to admit. Several times he walked onto their balcony and serenaded unexpecting pedestrians, often receiving a round of applause and he would bow dramatically to their praises. 

Her breath was ragged, a sharp burn in her throat even though she had only jogged a little over a mile. As she slowed to a quick walk, panting, the dog seemed relatively calm trotting by her side. 

_Why was this a good idea again?_

She was so out of shape that she was losing her balance, trying to right herself as she reached out her arm- suddenly realizing she had accidentally grabbed onto a stranger walking by in the opposite direction. 

“Ouch!”

There was a hot sting on the skin of her hand and she looked up to see that she had knocked the stranger’s hot beverage to the ground. She quickly removed her hand, mortified at her ungracefulness.

“I’m so, so sorry,” she apologized fiercely, shaking her head.

The elf wiped down the sleeves of his now stained, white button-down and sighed heavily. He straightened his posture and Ellana realized the bald elf was extremely tall and broad shouldered, much larger than any male elf she had ever encountered. 

“No apologies necessary.” His voice was calm although he seemed slightly irritated, his eyebrows furrowed as he gazed upon her with intense, grey eyes.

“Beautiful animal.”

She realized she was staring and quickly looked down. The man crouched down, scratching the dog behind the ears and the animal was accepting, licking the man’s chin contentedly.

“Oh! Harel, no kisses,” she said, attempting to tug on the leash. “Sorry, he’s very friendly.”

Wiping his face, he stood and observed her questioningly. “Harel? Is that what you have named him?”

There was an edge in his voice that came off rather condescending and there was a slight smirk on his face as if amused. 

“I- well, yes. I named him Harel,” she stammered, taking a small step backwards.

He leaned down, picking up his empty cup that was marked by an expensive company logo.

“Interesting.”

She couldn’t explain why, but she suddenly felt defensive. “Interesting?”

“Yes,” he repeated and tossed the cup into a trash bin next to him. “Fen’Harel? To name such an animal after the Dread Wolf, one with similar features, is quite interesting. You are Dalish, are you not?”

“Excuse me?” she blurted, taken aback by his blunt comments.

“I assume by the markings of your vallaslin.”

She touched her cheek with her free hand, running her fingers along where the markings of Mythal branded into the skin of her cheekbones and temples.

“The Dalish typically fear the Dread Wolf, do they not?” he continued, crossing his arms in front of him.

Too many times had she been pestered about her Dalish past, even from city elves just as this stranger appeared to be. Too many times had she been forced to explain and defend her upbringing to ignorant people, and her patience with it was waning.

She scoffed, tugging Harel to stand as she began to take a step forward.

“Not all Dalish share the same beliefs,” she said quietly, and the stranger responded with a light chuckle. She stopped in her tracks, spinning around to face him.

“Is something funny?”

“That I have never heard before,” he replied with a hint of arrogance. “What are your feelings of Fen’Harel?”

“I… feel there is more to the god,” she hesitated. “He must have more purpose than what some believe. Not everything is so black and white. And I also feel odd explaining my religious beliefs with someone I don’t even know.” 

The stranger did not respond but merely studied her with raised eyebrows.

“Sorry again about your coffee.”

“Tea, actually,” he corrected, “but nonetheless. I detest the stuff anyway.”

With that, she turned from the impolite stranger and resumed her jogging back to her car, all the while shaking her head in frustration as she replayed the particularly bizarre conversation in her head.


	2. Soprano

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana doesn't handle stage fright too well. And Solas' unreadable expressions are misinterpreted, as usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link to song for reference:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XfTgCPUJwRk

Hands were shaking, adrenaline pumping through her veins as she gripped her audition form in her sweaty palms. Nervous could barely touch on what she felt- terrified, even panicked. Her heels clicked against the hard tiles of the theater lobby like the sound of a metronome, her feet the only things keeping her from darting out the front door as her mind was desperately screaming at her to flee. As if reading her thoughts, Leliana hooked her arm around Ellana’s to prevent her escape as they walked side by side.

“I’m going to throw up.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m serious. What if I do? What if the moment I open my mouth SPLAT,” Ellana stomped her foot for emphasis, “all over the stage.”

Leliana creaked open the heavy door leading to a large room backstage. “Then your audition will certainly stand out.”

The moment Ellana laid her eyes on the crowd (close to forty people, she guessed) standing and sitting all across the room, she felt her stomach lurch. Some people were chatting while most were practicing their warm ups and singing their scales. A few women were in the far corner, twisting and turning as they practiced their ballet moves.

“Wait, Varric didn’t tell us we had to dance!”

“Calm down,” Leliana hushed as she led them towards a couple empty folding chairs near the center of the room and forced her to take a seat. “You don’t have to. Varric said he’s hiring a choreographer so no worries.”

Suddenly Sera, the hostess from the restaurant, appeared in front of them, her short blonde hair bouncing as she swayed from side to side.

“Oy! You guys ready to audition?”

“Getting there,” Leliana replied as Ellana remained silent, practicing her own breathing. 

“I’m excited. Are you guys excited? It’s all very… exciting!” Sera was wringing her hands, still swaying from side to side and Ellana could swear she noticed her eye twitch.

“Someone’s extremely energetic,” Ellana said, observing the overactive elf.

“Yeah, well, Cullen made me stay late last night to clean up because I hid in the walk-in freezer to jump out and scare him while he was carrying food. He always falls for it, that one,” she laughed while slapping her thigh. “Anyway, let’s just say that ended with soup everywhere and lots of cleaning for me. Din’t get much sleep, so I had five cups of coffee and now I see sounds.”

Her eyes went wide as she looked around the room.

“But anyway… Hey, you guys seen the new assistant director? I heard he’s a stickler. Real critical. Already saw two girls leave crying.”

Ellana’s own eyes widened and she groaned into her hands. “Please, Sera, I already feel nauseous and you’re not helping. Can we just not talk for a bit?”

“Suit yourself.”

Sera sat down next to them, swinging her legs and feet. In the distance they could hear a piano playing, a faint male voice ringing from the stage. Definitely Dorian. Ellana knew that voice from anywhere.

 

\---

 

The mustached man finished the last chorus, taking a triumphant bow at the end. Definitely Tevinter, Solas knew from the man’s attitude and mannerisms. However he couldn’t dismiss his performance as it was the best high baritone voice he had heard all day. He jotted down his notes as Varric thanked the man who turned to leave the stage.

“So,” Varric leaned over from his plush, red velvet seat of the old auditorium, “What d’ya think?”

Solas, who preferred to stand in the front row, nodded in his approval. “He has great potential.”

Several others had joined them in evaluating auditions, including the new owner of the theater. The woman, Vivienne as she had introduced herself, had a pretentious air about her, which was to be expected as she was involved in Orlesian politics. Apparently she had bought the theater in order to “help the community in whatever way she could.” She had restored this old building, one that rested upon land that had significant importance to lost elven history, his own history. In that he could be thankful, for Solas had his own agenda. He also had an affinity for the arts, so he offered his help as assistant director to indulge in this love. In turn, he would have to tolerate the woman and her snide comments about him. Including her unreasonable comments about his “hobo fashion choices.”

“Indeed, but he is quite sure of himself,” the woman said of Dorian. “Let us hope he does not get his confidence crushed.”

After a few moments of quick discussion, the next performer walked onto the stage and sang one of the few song choices for the audition. She was a busty woman with tanned skin and commanded a strong stage presence. 

_Definitely a candidate for Carlotta_ he wrote in his notes as she finished, rubbing a hand down his tired face. The audition process seemed to be taking longer than he anticipated but he composed himself and returned his attention to the stage as another performer entered.

A familiar young elf strolled slowly across the stage, a look of trepidation on her tense face. Her chestnut hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, offering a clean look with a plain black t-shirt and grey slacks typical for an audition, presenting herself as a fresh canvas. He knew he had seen this person before and the memory of his spilled cup of tea, her defensiveness towards his questions and curious responses recapulated in his mind. The sudden recognition must have also influenced her as she reached down to hand him the audition form with a perplexed glance. He took her paper without reaction and returned to his spot as the pianist asked her which song she would like to perform.

“She’s going to blow you away,” he could hear Varric mumble behind him to no one in particular.

The song began and she folded her shaking hands in front of her and peered down at her feet. Solas had seen several people blunder their performances that day because of their nerves, so surely the stumbling Dalish girl from the park would be a similar case. Varric was most likely being kind because they appeared to be acquaintances. As she drew a first breath, he looked down at his notebook to begin writing notes.  
_  
“Think of me, think of me fondly when we’ve said goodbye…”_

His pen halted in place before he had a chance to scribble her name across the paper.  
_  
“Remember me, once in a while please promise me you’ll try…”_

The sweet voice of a soprano began to delicately float through the auditorium, silvery and light. The notes cut smoothly and pleasantly, each ringing a sensation in his ears. She added a slight, quick vibrato to the end of each line that was equally as soft as it was effective.  
_  
“And you’ll find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free, if you ever find a moment spare a thought for me.”_

The piano continued and he found himself slowly gazing up at her, completely captivated. The woman no longer stared shyly at her feet, but instead held herself with poise and confidence. Her face was bright with character, eyes smiling as she gracefully weaved the notes of the song.  
_  
“We never said our love was evergreen or as unchanging as the sea, but if you can still remember stop and think of me.”_

Goosebumps. Was he feeling goosebumps? _Surely not._

 _“Think of all the things  we've shared and seen,  don't think about the way  things might have been._  
_Think of me, think of me waking  silent and resigned,  imagine me trying too hard  to put you from my mind._  
_Recall those days look back on all those times,  think of the things we'll never do._  
_There will never be a day  when I won't think of you.”_

For a moment she glanced hesitantly into the audience as the piano covered the part of Raoul, almost as if seeking a look of approval from Varric. As her gaze quickly returned to the back wall he noticed her blush and he wondered if she was avoiding his eye contact.  
  
_“Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade,  they have their seasons so do we.  
But please promise me that sometimes  you will think...”_

She reached the end of the song, the climb of notes that would make or break a performance just as it had for every other female before her that had auditioned for the role of Christine. She drew a deep breath then began, voice hitting each note, then steeping low and back up again to crescendo at the end. The piano ended the last note and he felt his notebook slide from his hand, clunking to the ground distractingly. He did not see her nod, barely heard her mumble of “thank you” before exiting the stage as he reached down to grab his papers.

“So? Amazing or what?” Varric jumped from his seat looking around excitedly and there were several responses from the others in the room.

“Excellent!”

“The best we have seen so far.”

“I admire her charm, certainly. She does have great potential,” Vivienne responded thoughtfully.

Solas focused on his pen, now scribbling the shortest of notes he had written critically of each performer from the day.  
_Fascinating._

\---

 

Ellana exited back stage, her face flush and limbs tingling from the exhaustion of adrenaline as Dorian walked towards her and gave her shoulder a squeeze.

"How did it go my little songbird?" he asked excitedly as Leliana joined them along with several other friends.

“I don’t know…”

“Oh whatever,” Sera blurted as she shooed her hand. “We could hear you. Stop being modest.”

“You sounded excellent,” Cullen said from nearby as he leaned against the wall. 

She felt the nausea again. She needed fresh air.

“Varric seemed to like it, but the assistant director glared at me the whole time,” she grumbled then trudged through the room, leaving her friends behind.

As she made it through the lobby and out the front door she breathed in deeply, letting the fresh air fill her lungs then leave her lips as a sigh. She pictured the elf’s face, eyes narrowed and face unreadable as she felt his stare through her entire performance. 

_Of course_ it had to be him, the stranger she already embarrassed herself in front of. _Ellana Lavellan, you must be cursed._

She walked back to Leliana’s car to wait for her, sliding into the passengers seat and putting her head between her knees, sulking over her poor luck.


	3. Arlathvenn

_Darkness. The type of darkness that is built like a wall, surrounding and stopping everything in it’s grasp. His feet hesitated, shuffling forward and feeling along damp stone, patches of soft foliage brushing against his fingertips._

_He knew it was near. Somewhere in front of him, it had to be there, just out of his grasp. He knew it from memory._

_There was a trickling in the distance, and as he turned a corner he noticed a faint light casting down from a gap the ceiling of the ancient ruin. A small stream of water slowly cascaded from the gap above to the floor below and vines clung to the stone pillars that twisted upwards offering their support._

_Suddenly his gaze was drawn back to the wall he leaned on, a long metal brazier just an arm’s reach away. He held out his palm, waving it slightly to summon the veilfire that he envisioned in his mind, reaching to bring forth the energy to his fingertips…_

_Nothing._

_Sweat began to bead on his forehead as he sharpened his concentration while trying to persuade each of his senses that the magic existed in his hand._

_Nothing._

_Panic. First he clenched each muscle in his arm, then torso down to his legs and feet, shaking from the energy he failed to produce. He bit down, grinding his teeth as he growled harshly into the night air._  
  
Solas woke with a start, his hands grasped tightly around his soft bed sheets. He stared at the stucco ceiling of his hotel room, slowing his breath and collecting himself. He rolled over, checking the digital screen of the alarm clock.

4:42am.

 _One more hour,_ he told himself as he closed his eyes once again. He had one more hour before his alarm would sound and he would have to start the day. One more hour to search, to find what he was missing…

Every night he attempted to walk the fade. Every night he searched for a sign, for something or _someone_ that would give him answers, but everything had gone quiet. He met no spirits in the fade and saw no trace of magic. Everything was worn, aged, so different from how he remembered from the time he walked among his people. Even in the fade he could find no comfort.

And this strange place he now found himself was a place so different from the world he once knew. There was no magic. The people could not conjure spells and had no control over the elements. Not only did they have no magical touch, they also had no concept of magic in general. 

Most importantly, his magical abilities had also vanished. 

He learned of what happened to his people, learned of the Dalish and heard the twisted tales of the gods through their mouths. With each new thread of information he felt his heart grow heavy. He had failed. He had failed them all.

Under his pride he had failed, and in his grief he shaped his new persona. _Solas_ he now called himself, so he would never forget. He needed to right his people, and he knew this could not be done without his power.

He groaned sleepily into his pillow, each of these thoughts running wildly through his head. Instead of fighting for sleep that he knew would not return, he abandoned his bed to ready himself for the early meeting he had that morning. He showered and dressed slowly, making his way to the hotel lobby for his (mediocre) breakfast, during which he kept his back facing the television. During the last decade or so since his wake from Uthenera, he reached the conclusion that he despised the news sources of this new society. Each one was unbelievably biased and misrepresented the facts.

Again when he reached his car he was reminded of how strange this new world was, turning the key as the radio began to play. He changed the station several times after hearing a song about some woman named “Trap Queen,” another about a poor soul who said he was too hot and needed a fireman, and another who was all about some sort of bass. Needless to say, the rest of the ride to city hall was in silence.

“…and the findings would have tremendous influence to our people. Excavation could provide information into ancient Elven history that would be important not only to the city but for all interested in the culture. Furthermore, I propose the findings should be revealed at the Arlathvenn being held in four months time.”

The pale female elf coughed, looking timidly around the room as she placed a strand of black hair behind her ear. _Merrill_ , her nametag read, _Cultural Resources Management_ underneath.

A man raised his hand. “Arlathvenn?”

“A traditional meeting of Dalish clans,” Solas added to the conversation, lazily drumming his fingers against the desk he found himself sitting. He was half in and out of the conversation, already holding secret knowledge of the ancient ruin they spoke of, the one he dreamed of the night before.

“And how do you propose we finish excavation in only four months time?”

Merrill coughed nervously. “I, well, of course it would be tentative based on the condition of the ruin once we begin…”

She trailed off, and the many others in the room began questioning her further.

Solas shuffled through his notebook, his mind wandering as he had no interest in the squabbling of these people. As long as the excavation was agreed upon, he would have access to the ruin and that was all that mattered. He flipped through the pages and landed on his notes for the musical auditions. His eyes skimmed the names idly down the paper, searching for one particular name.

_Ellana Lavellan._

He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering how the light hit her face and trying his best to recall the sound of that fascinating voice.

“And you, sir? Sir? Solas?”

His focus returned to the present, peering around to see that all eyes in the room were on him. 

“As our contract historian, what do you propose?”

He straightened his posture, rolling back his shoulders. “I propose we move forward with the plan just as Merrill has presented.”

The young elf smiled suddenly, green eyes lit with excitement.

Solas looked down at his phone resting next to his notebook, a text message illuminating the black screen.

-Haven. 9pm. Be there.  
-Varric

\---

Ellana filled the beer glass, letting go of the tap as the frothy foam rose to the brim. She set the glass in front of Dorian who lifted it eagerly to his lips.

“Cole, I noticed the elaborately folded napkins in the men’s room. Was that you?”

Cole turned from his seat on a stool behind the bar, staring blankly. “No. I am not a napkin.”

Dorian slapped his palm against his forehead.

“Where is Varric?”

Ellana looked at her phone, checking the time. The restaurant had been dead most of the night, typical for a Monday, so Cullen decided to close early since Varric wanted to tell them the results of auditions. Of course, he was already thirty minutes late.

The bell to the front door chimed, however it was only Cassandra who entered. She sat quickly beside Dorian, a stern look crossing her face. 

“Long day?” Ellana grabbed the woman a wine glass, pouring in some red merlot.

Cassandra still wore her police uniform. She sighed heavily, placing her badge on the bar. 

“Had a lot of paperwork. It’s been that kind of day. We also had a meeting about the excavation in town,” she grumbled in her strong Nevarran accent, reaching for her wine.

“Are they finally going to go through with it?” Ellana asked excitedly.

“Yes, but they aren’t sure if it will be done before the Arlathvenn.”

Ellana’s fingers tightened around the wine bottle she still held in her hand, gripping the glass in frustration.

“Of course, they waited too long. These idiotic shems- no offense guys- don’t care about how important this is to my people. The Dalish only hold the Arlathvenn every decade. But who cares? They only want to make money off of our history.”

“I’m sorry, Ellana,” Cassandra offered in console. “I know how important this is to you.”

“Are you going to tell your clan? They’ve been waiting to hear about it, haven’t they?” Dorian asked, hesitantly prying the wine bottle from her crushing grasp before it could become a weapon.

Ellana bit down on her bottom lip. How could she tell her Keeper, Deshanna, the news? How could she let down not only her clan, but the rest of the Dalish?

A year ago when historians discovered the location of an ancient elven ruin that hid beneath the soils of their town, Ellana jumped at the opportunity. She immediately called Cassandra, her close friend and prominent community leader, knowing that she could provide insider information as plans for excavation began. She promised Deshanna this information for their presentation at the next gathering of clans. Whatever they found in the ruins would surely be groundbreaking, and to be the first clan to deliver the information would provide their clan with so many opportunities that she knew they so desperately needed.

And there she was, only four months until the Arlathvenn, and she had nothing to show.

“I don’t know,” was all she could muster.

The door to the restaurant chimed once more, bringing her attention away from her disheartening thoughts.

Varric bounced through the door and strutted proudly towards the bar, a stack of papers held tightly against his chest. The happy distraction was lost, however, as she realized he held the audition results. Furthermore, behind him she saw a tall elf walking slowly, a familiar blank expression on his face.

Ellana’s stomach jolted.

“Everyone, gather round!” Varric exclaimed dramatically. The rest of the workers in the restaurant abandoned their cleaning duties and approached the bar, including Cullen who had finished closing the register.

“First, I want to introduce everyone to my _assistant_ director. Chuckles here is a creative genius and has tons of knowledge about musicals.”

The elf raised an eyebrow as a response to his apparent nickname.

Varric continued. “I wanted to thank all of you for offering your help with this project. I know we’ve had some… minor issues in the past, but those are behind us now. This new venture will be a success and hopefully we’re able to bring the community together for a great show. Blah, blah, blah, all of that mushy stuff. Anyway, let’s get to what you’re all really here for.”

He gathered the papers in his hands excitedly.

“Audition results!”

Everyone gathered around Varric as he slowly began passing out the results, congratulating each person individually with his natural charm.

Ellana noticed the bald elf standing uncomfortably to the side.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“No thank you,” he replied, rather politely and taking her by surprise.

“Varric made you come, didn’t he?”

He nodded. “He forced me into his car.”

“That sounds like him.”

“I actually wanted to come to commend you on your performance.”

His eye contact was rather intense, his sharp grey eyes locked onto her. She was so surprised by his comment, however, that she couldn’t look away.

“Commend me? Here I thought you hated my performance,” she said with slightly more aggression than she meant. 

“I did not hate your performance. On the contrary, I thought you were spectacular.”

She couldn’t help but to remember the way he stared at her, the way he questioned her beliefs when she had first ran into him.

“I remember you, you know. From the park.”

He frowned. “Yes, I believe we may have started on the wrong foot.”

“The ‘I’m going to rudely criticize your culture’ foot, you mean?” she added sarcastically. _Who does this guy think he is?_

“If I remember correctly,” he objected, “you ran into me and spilled my tea.”

_Touché._

Varric suddenly appeared beside them, his smile fading as he slowly realized the irritated atmosphere of their conversation.

“Hey Sneaky! Just the person I was looking for.” He held out a casting sheet, placing it in her hands distractingly. “Congrats, kid.”

Patting her on the shoulder, Varric then walked off with a sly grin on his face.

She looked down at the paper, her eyes grazing the top of the list.

_**Lead Roles:  
The Phantom: Dorian Pavus  
Christine Daae: Ellana Lavellan** _

Her breath caught in her throat.

She peered up at the elf, her eyes wide with disbelief. He smiled pleasantly at her reaction.

“Let’s try this again,” he said warmly, offering his hand. “My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it wasn't quite clear:
> 
> Arlathvenn: Event, gathering of Dalish clans
> 
> I can't help but wonder what Solas would think about modern music or how angry he would get every time he heard the radio.  
> Also, it's fun thinking about what type of drink each character prefers. Cassandra definitely strikes me as the "wine after a long hard day" kinda gal.


	4. Cake

There were only a few moments when Ellana could truthfully say she was at a loss for words, the first being when she had killed her first game when hunting with her clan. It was a small nug, not much smaller than she was at the time, but Keeper Deshana had been so proud. The look on the elder’s face, a woman who had been Ellana’s surrogate mother, beaming with such excitement had left the child speechless.

The second time had been quite the contrast. It was the night she learned she would be moving away from her clan, when Deshanna approached her as a child and told her she would attend a shem boarding school in a shem town, away from her clan’s settlement and everything she knew and loved. It’d be years until she would realize her life would never be the same, until the mixture of rejection and resentfulness would creep into her cracked surface. 

Now, as an adult, she again experienced this phenomenon of speechlessness as she stood in the center of a mirrored room with dozens of people, mostly strangers, being told that she would have to dance. Ballet. Ellana Lavellan dancing ballet. 

“I- uh, sorry… What?”

They were in the middle of their first practice, going over the basics during the “Hannibal” rehearsal scene with a few of the lead actors and dancers. Varric decided it would be best to split up and have half of the actors read through lines in the auditorium while the rest began dance rehearsals, much to her dismay. 

A blonde elven man stood before her, resting a hand on her shoulder for encouragement after she shot him a devastatingly confused look after he instructed her to plié. Zevran, the choreographer, spoke to her with his smooth Antivan accent that did nothing to help with her uneasiness.

“From what I understand, you do not have much dance experience, correct?”

Ellana stared like a deer in headlights. “Well none, actually, so…”

“Do not worry, my Christine!” he exclaimed, removing his grasp on her shoulder and triumphantly clapping his hands in the air. “I will make this simple enough for you. Now, stand back in line.”

She awkwardly shuffled backwards to stand beside Leliana who shot her a comforting smile. Ellana was so ecstatic to find out Leliana had been casted as Meg. Not only would she have her best friend with her during rehearsals, but also someone who wouldn’t think she was a complete idiot with two left feet.

Zevran nodded towards Solas, who had been observing from behind a desk in the back of the room. He had been leaning over a thick book that was opened before him, pausing now and then from his reading to watch although he seemed extremely disinterested. He leaned forward to press play on the stereo resting on the desk, the upbeat instrumental music suddenly filling the room.

The dancers began to move, stepping in beat just as Zevran had taught them earlier that morning. The choreographer yelled out several instructions, following around the room as they moved.

“Don’t forget to keep your chins up. Light on your feet now! Great. Now leap, that’s it- plié! Er, bend your knees, Ellana. That’s it!”

Ellana followed the other dancers, doing her best to twist and turn at the same time. She almost tripped a couple times, leaning too far but finally finding her balance thanks to Leliana’s deft hands grabbing the back of her tanktop before she could fall flat on her face. After a few minutes the music finally stopped, the dancers finishing their last move and turning to face their instructor.

“Excellent progress for the first day,” Zevran said. “The good news is that this is probably the most challenging dance scenes. Bad news, we definitely have our work cut out for us.”

Ellana grimaced, hiding her face behind her water bottle.

“However this is only day one and we have plenty of time. I do see much potential.” He shot a quick wink towards a dancer in the front who blushed in return. “But now I think it is best to take a break. Let’s meet back in thirty minutes.”

Ellana quickly grabbed her bag from the floor near the door, doing her best to hide her frustration. 

“I’m going to get some coffee. I’ll be right back,” she mumbled to Leliana then left the room before her friend could protest.

She headed out the front of the theater, turning left as she walked briskly to the coffee shop next door. The heavy aroma filled her lungs and she sighed, releasing some of the anxiety she had built up that morning. 

_What was I thinking? I’m not cut out for this._

She placed herself behind the long line of customers, lost in her thoughts as she tried to stop her mind from replaying each embarrassing moment. 

_Plie? The HELL am I supposed to know what a plié is?!_

Suddenly she felt a hand brush against her arm, pulling her attention back to the present. She turned to find Solas standing behind her in line.

“Hello,” his polite voice surprisingly warm.

She tried to smile. “Hi. What are you doing here?”

“Sorry?” He narrowed his eyes at her, confused.

“You told me you don’t like coffee. You’re in a coffee shop.”

He chuckled lightly, tilting back his head. For the first time she noticed the prominent dimple in the center of his chin.

“And you are very observant,” he replied. “I am actually here for their small cakes. I rather enjoy them.”

He nodded at the small display window by the cash register, an assortment of different pastries staring tauntingly from behind the glass.

“You left in quite a hurry back there.”

She sighed. “Oh, you noticed?”

“I did. Dancing can be a difficult art, even with years of experience. Zevran is an excellent instructor, however _interesting_ an individual he is. You should have faith in him. You should have faith in yourself too.”

The line moved forward slowly, and they each took a step forward. She glanced at him questioningly.

“Are you trying to make me feel better?”

“I’m simply trying to inform you that you are more capable than you think. Christine Daae is a difficult role even for the seasoned professional, but your audition was captivating. And you are quite graceful.”

She scrunched her nose, unsure how to respond to his unexpected compliments.

“Well, more graceful on stage than you are at running,” he added with a smirk.

“Where are you from?” she asked, changing the subject. “You don’t sound like you’re Dalish, but you don’t seem like a city elf either.”

He too looked unsure. “Quite the inquisitor today, aren’t we?”

“I just like to know who I’m taking advice from,” she said playfully over her shoulder as they moved forward again. 

He studied her for a moment. “You would be correct. I am from a small village in the north, somewhere not usually listed on a map. What about you? I am interested in how a Dalish left her clan.”

“I didn’t so much leave as I was forced out,” she corrected. He turned to face her directly in interest, studying her. 

“Really?”

“Well they didn’t kick me out, exactly. Most clans nowadays can’t afford the taxes on their lands let alone feed their children’s mouths, so they sent many of us to make lives of our own. I left when I was eleven, attended school and then went on to graduate college. It wasn’t so bad. They were trying to give us a better future.” 

She swept a strand of hair behind her ear, surprised at how much information she was telling this person she barely knew.

“That couldn’t have been easy, to leave your culture behind. Do you ever feel angry with them?” he asked with an enthusiasm that seemed as though he were genuinely interested.

She shook her head. “I did for a time, but how could I be angry with my people? They’re doing what they can to survive. You can’t expect from someone who has nothing left to give.”

He thought for a moment, processing her words with a blank expression that was unreadable.

“That is very wise of you,” he responded finally. “Perhaps that is something to take into consideration.”

She reached the front of the line, taking out her wallet. 

“Can I get a small vanilla latte, please?” she asked the cashier. She pointed to the display case. “And one coffee cake.”

As the cashier finished her order, she paid then grabbed the small baggie containing the cake and held it out to Solas.

“Here. Since, you know, I owe you one for spilling your tea.”

He smiled, accepting the gesture and she felt his soft hand brush against hers.

“Thank you.”

They walked out of the coffee shop, stepping out into the fresh air and turning back to the theater. Solas reached into the baggie, breaking the cake in half and handing a piece to her.

“Only if I can share.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently visiting family out of town, so I haven't had much time to write. BUT I promise the next chapter will make up for that. 
> 
> Also, of COURSE Zevran would be the choreographer. 
> 
> I'm giving away the casting of the show a little bit at a time because I think it's more fun that way instead of just giving you guys a list. I'm excited to give more away the next chapter. *evil grins* Who would you guys cast?


	5. Focus

“I’m really enjoying the skirt there, boss.”

“Shut it. I’m getting into character.”

“Is that what you call it?”

“You’re just jealous you aren’t as professional as I am.”

“It’s cool. Really brings out the color in your eyes.”

Ellana stood backstage waiting for rehearsals to pick back up, slowly munching on her shared piece of coffee cake while listening to the bickering between a young man and a large Qunari who leaned against the wall beside her. Her mind wandered back to the conversation with Solas at the coffee shop just minutes before. 

_Was he flirting with me?_

Of course not. He couldn’t have. They were barely acquaintances. He was probably just being nice to her. 

Ellana was always good at over-analyzing the simplest of social interactions with others, caused by her anxiety and shyness. She always found herself questioning the intentions of others and criticizing her own actions.

_Was **I** flirting?_

Her cultural differences could be to blame. It was strange as a child to be told that the forthrightness of the Dalish was not typically accepted. Keeper Deshanna had taught her that she should be open with her emotions and feelings in order to form a close bond with their clan. In order to function as a solid group you should be honest and open. This Dalish custom, among many other others, she had learned weren’t necessarily accepted in her new culture. (Like when she was in school and her wool pants were making her itch and she decided to take them off in the middle of class. The scandalous look on her teacher’s face when she explained that the Dalish often walked around in their smallclothes haunted her for years.) 

For years she struggled with social anxiety. She withdrew, making few friends as a child. She felt lost in this new world, with new rules that were played as if society were a game. It confused her. Made her feel alone for quite some time. She was unbelievably thankful once she became an adult and finally met people with their own flaws and who were accepting of hers. 

“-no man, it’s weird. Trust me.”

“What do you think?”

The Qunari stared down at her from his towering height, his muscles bulging from underneath his large frame. Ellana tried not to stare at his horns that curved out from his head into sharp points. He was the first Qunari she had ever seen, other than from television.

“Sorry?” she asked, forcing her eyes to make contact with his.

“My friend here thinks it’s weird that I dressed in costume for our first practice. I say it helps to get into character,” he explained in his deep, rumbling voice.

Ellana took in the sight of his elaborate outfit that involved some type of golden armor with a breastplate with long red strips flowing from the bottom with gold embellishments. 

He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. “I had it custom made by our costume designer.”

“I see.” She nodded, pretending to be impressed. “Who are you supposed to be?” 

His human friend began to snigger.

“I’m playing Piangi. You know, the opera singer? The scene we’re practicing he’s supposed to be wearing Roman armor and…Nevermind, forget it. You people don’t understand true art,” he sighed as his friend doubled over in laughter, slapping his knee.

“Anyway, haven’t met you before. The name’s Iron Bull. You can call be Bull, if you like.”

He held out his large hand as she returned the gesture, thankful his grasp was surprisingly gentle and didn’t crush her small dainty hand.

“This here is Krem,” Bull added.

“Nice to meet you,” said the human as he straightened his posture and wiped a gleeful tear from his eye. “I play Monsieur Andre. You’re the lead, right?”

She nodded shyly. “I am. My name’s Ellana. Are you both from the acting company Varric hired?”

“Yep. I’m head of the company, actually,” Bull said grinning. “We’re called Chargers Entertainment. We’ve worked on different projects all over Orlais, you might’ve heard of us.”

“Oh! I think I have. Weren’t you the ones who put on The Lion King last summer?”

“That’d be us,” Krem replied proudly.

Ellana’s eyes lit with excitement. “That was an amazing show. The actor who played Timon completely stole the show.”

“Our very own.” Bull slapped Krem on the back.

“You were great. Your comedic timing was spot on.”

“Thanks,” Krem said humbly. “That was my first big role, actually. I’m used to working behind the scenes.”

“I know the feeling. I’m used to being a stage hand.” 

Varric appeared suddenly on stage, waving his hands to gather everyone’s attention. The chatter quieted as everyone turned their attention to the dwarf who had a script rolled in one hand, a pen in the other.

“Alright! Break’s over. I need my actors for Scene 4!”

Ellana grabbed her script, flipping the pages to find said scene and groaned in recognition. This was one she wasn’t looking forward to- her scene with _Raoul_.

Varric placed a chair in the center and motioned for Ellana to sit. He directed the other actors, showing them where to enter on stage and stand. He then leapt off stage to stand in the front row with Solas, who was watching attentively.

“Alright, go ahead and use scripts since we haven’t memorized lines yet, but I still want eye contact. I want _feeling_ , especially from Christine and Raoul. Remember, you haven’t seen each other in years and you’re reminiscing. Now, from the beginning of the scene. Christine, Andre, Firmin Raoul, and Phantom please.”

The actors readied their scripts, finding their places. Varric waved his hands around again in the air.

“Feeling!”

Everyone stared at him for a moment confused, before he added (less enthusiastically), “Alright, action.”

Andre, played by Krem, and Firmin, played by a scruffy bearded actor named Blackwall, stepped forward on stage. Cullen, playing the role of Raoul, followed closely behind.

“Ah, Vicomte! I think we’ve made quite a discovery with Miss Daae!” Krem said, leaning towards Cullen.

“Perhaps we could present her to you, Dear Vicomte,” Blackwall’s monotone voice came out, more reading than acting. 

Cullen stepped passed them, pretending to grab an invisible bundle of flowers, improvising from the script.

“Gentleman, if you wouldn’t mind, this is one visit I should prefer to make unaccompanied.”

Ellana swallowed the lump forming in her tight throat, trying to avoid eye contact as Cullen moved towards her. Blackwall and Krem finished their last lines.

“It would appear they have met before.”

“Yes.”

Cullen pretended to close a door, entering the “dressing room” from behind. 

“Little Lotte let her mind wander. Little Lotte thought, ‘Am I fonder of dolls, or of goblins, or shoes…?’”

He sounded confident and natural, and Ellana felt somewhat relieved that he at least was trying not to make their scene together awkward despite the circumstances. She turned to him and pretended to be surprised at his entrance, smiling widely and letting go of her nerves.

“Raoul!”

“‘Or of riddles or of frocks?’”

“Those picnics in the attic.”

“‘Or of chocolates?’”

“Father playing the violin.”

“As we read to each other dark stories of the North?”

He stepped closer and they faced one another, pretending to reminisce like old friends as they read their lines. They sang together for a line and his voice sounded surprisingly good. She could definitely see why Varric had casted him as Raoul.

“Father said, ‘when I’m in heaven, child, I will send the angel of music to you.’ Well, Father is dead, Raoul, and I have been visited by the Angel of Music.”

He scoffed. “Oh, no doubt of it! And now we go to supper.”

“No Raoul!” She shook her head as he reached for her hand. “The Angel of Music is very strict.”

“Well I shan’t keep you up late.”

He reached for her again, and she stepped away.

“Raoul, no.”

“You must change! I’ll order my carriage. Two minutes, Little Lotte-”

“-no, Raoul, wait!” she called after him as he walked off stage.

 

\---

The piano in the corner by the stage began to play, the dramatic tune of music flowing and echoing throughout the auditorium. The Tevinter man named Dorian made his way to the edge of stage, his voice ringing out as he began to sing. Solas’ eyes ignored the man, his gaze upon Ellana who stood in the center of the stage and reacted with perfect surprise at Dorian’s voice.

She was an excellent actress. _Of course she would be._ He knew she would be. So far, this little Dalish woman had amazed him in several ways. Her singing had first captivated him, and then her thoughts. She had spoken with such wisdom with him at the coffee shop. It was a quick exchange, but her words resonated with him.

_You can’t expect from someone who has nothing left to give._

_Oh, how right you are,_ he had thought.

He needed to focus.

He blinked, trying not to stare at her and instead observe the performance. 

She stepped forward and began to sing, her sweet and soft voice ringing pleasantly in his ears. 

“Angel I hear you, speak, I listen. Stay by my side, guide me. Angel, my soul was weak forgive me. Enter at last, Master.”

Dorian continued the next line, however Solas was deaf to his voice. He was transfixed as he watched her, his eyes grazing over her soft skin that shone brilliantly under the stage lights.

_Focus._

He blinked again, turning to stare at Dorian instead. He was the assistant director, after all, and he needed to critique all of the actors.

Ellana drew another breath, finishing her last line. She stared at Dorian as she pretended to be transfixed and moved slowly to him, reaching out for his open hand, however she struggled to hold a serious expression. She bit back the grin threatening to spread across her face. Dorian pursed his lips as he faced a similar struggle, and the two broke character and began to giggle at one another. 

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Varric called out to the two actors who were now pointing at one another in accusation like children. “That was a good start, though. Cullen and Ellana, great chemistry beginning there, I liked it. Feelings! Dorian, your voice is great buddy but a little more volume next time. Other than that, great job. Solas, any input?”

The elf coughed lightly and regained his stoic composure as he folded his arms in front of him. “I, too, think Dorian should add more volume. The Phantom should command her attention. And perhaps next time we can work on keeping a straight face.”

Ellana blushed, punching Dorian lightly on the arm who stuck out his tongue in return.

Varric clapped his hands together. “Great, well if that’s all, I think we had a successful first day of practice. Thank you, everyone. We’ll meet again here on Monday, six o’clock.”

As Varric lumbered off to attend to the performers who were still backstage, Solas began gathering his notebook and script and placed them into his bag. He struggled internally, wanting to grab Ellana’s attention to speak with her. He had so many questions, wanting to ask about her acting experiences, how many times she had performed, wanting to hear her voice speak to him and to look into those bright eyes…

He forced his bag around his shoulder, gripping his car keys tightly in his hands as he turned in the opposite direction to leave.

_Careful, old fool._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue for dayssss.
> 
> Had to split this chapter and the next one for awkward long-ness and things. The next one picks up more, I promise.


	6. Dreams

That night, for the first time since his youth, he lost control in the fade.

It had started innocently as it usually did. He tried to envision the elven ruin hidden beneath the town, just as he had from his memory, feeling along the moss-covered walls and making his way to a nearby torch he would, most likely, fail to ignite in flames yet again. However, instead of turning the dark corner to reach the large room within the ruin, he found himself in the center of a large field. Sunlight cast down on him, warming his skin with a soft tingling sensation. He was unaware of the change of scenery at first, distracted as the wind swept around him like a welcoming cushion against his restless body. He closed his eyes, breathing in the perfumed trail of lavender and wilderness. The grass swayed against his knees as he swayed along with it, the music and hum of nature resonating through his very core. It had been quite some time since he lost himself or let his godly worries wash away for even just a moment of contentedness.

The wind calmed and he realized there was an actual hum drifting through the air. It was the sound of a woman humming faintly from nearby.

He opened his eyes and peered around the field to find the source. A short distance away he noticed a flattened patch of grass so he curiously strolled towards the area, the lovely sound becoming louder with each footstep. As he approached he first noticed the wild waves of chestnut silk hair splayed against the ground, two delicate hands braiding strands of grass between fingertips. She wore a conservative nightgown of soft cotton and lace, the elegant short sleeves gracing her shoulders and buttoned down the front. This was similar fashion to what the women wore from his time, his first indication that his imagination must have bettered his will by creating her in this place. It would be as he imagined her in her natural state with her Dalish clan. 

He shook his head, smiling at the beautiful image he had created. 

_Why is this woman filling my thoughts?_

He decided to indulge, nonetheless, as there should be no harm in interacting with her in this place. After all, his subconscious must have created her here for a reason. Maybe he saw companionship, a chance to interact with someone he could call a friend. It had been so long since he found a spirit in the fade, someone he could confide and converse. Perhaps that’s what this being was- a spirit.

Ellana, or at least his fade version of her, finally noticed him hovering above. She blinked lazily, shielding her eyes from the sun to see him clearly.

“Solas?”

“Aneth ara, Ellana.” He crouched down then sprawled out on the ground next to her, the grass folding softly beneath him. 

She turned to him curiously. 

“You speak Elvish? I am surprised. Garas quenathra?”

“Souver’inan isala hamin.”

Her eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “You came to my clan’s land to nap? You speak our native tongue quite beautifully.”

His imagined version of Ellana continued as if thinking nothing of her peculiar whereabouts. He watched as she returned to braiding her strands of grass with great concentration.

“I’ve had many years of practice. Do you think your clan will mind if I stay a while?”

She turned to him and thought for a moment. “No. Keeper Deshanna doesn’t know about this spot, I found it on my own. Your secret is safe with me.”

“How considerate of you to share your hiding spot with me. I am honored,” he said with a small grin, resting his hands behind his head. “Tell me of yourself, Ellana.”

“What do you wish to know?”

The blue of the sky above shone in her eyes, a vibrant brightness of cerulean staring deep into his clouded steel. 

“Where did you learn to sing like that?”

“I didn’t,” she stated plainly.

“You sing with such experience,” he urged. “Someone must have taught you.”

She shook her head. “The only training I’ve had is with my clan. The Dalish don’t _teach_ their children to sing, we just pick it up over the years. We sing when we work in the fields, when we hunt in the woods and when we travel. My clan never listens to the radio either. We just always sing songs from our heritage. It’s easier to learn when you first observe.”

He enjoyed listening to her speak of her clan, a rare feeling considering his opinions of the Dalish. She spoke with such enthusiasm that he could feel the warmth radiating from her.

“…Riris and Harlan always sing when they go hunting. You can usually hear them in the mornings and when I was young I used to hide behind the trees to listen to their songs. Deshanna was never too thrilled about that since I was supposed to be inside studying.”

He took note of how she spoke in the present tense.

“So you are a book worm?” he teased. 

“I am studying to become First of my clan.”

He frowned, turning to stare into the clear sky. “Pity. There is plenty of room in education for the arts. The Dalish would benefit from that.”

She tugged at the grass to tighten the braid. “What are you doing here?”

He sighed, trying to calculate his response carefully. If this were a spirit, he was still unsure of it’s kind. He would need to be wary of it’s intentions.

“I am in search of something I have lost. It has been many years since I have found companionship in this place.”

Her hands suddenly stilled at his words, dropping the braid that fell to her stomach. The expression on her face read confusion, and she propped up to her elbows as she took in her surroundings. 

“Wait a minute… Something isn’t right. I can’t place it.”

She looked around until her eyes fell again on him. 

_Curious,_ he thought. 

A spirit who is unaware of the fade? Or, perhaps, she truly was a figment of his lonely imagination. Or…

_…but that would be impossible._

He too sat up, searching her face as she stared in confusion. 

“I don’t understand. I don’t live here anymore,” she suddenly realized. “I don’t belong here.”

_It couldn’t truly be her._

Had Ellana’s true spirit drawn him to her in the fade? This was something that hadn’t happened to him since Arlathan. Something that was impossible without the aid of strong magic, a magic that he had been desperately searching for since he awoke from Uthenera. Something that would require a truly unique and gifted spirit.

He could feel his heartbeat quicken in his chest.

“You are not what I expected,” he exhaled in wonder.

She straightened her arms and held out her hands as she flipped them back and forth, observing her skin as if it were a foreign object.

“Da’len,” he whispered, catching her attention. “Wake up.”

\---

Ellana’s eyes shot open with a ferocious speed, the sudden bright light pouring from her window causing her to squint. It took her a few moments to process where she was as she looked around as she looked around her cluttered bedroom. Her dirty clothes were spilling from her laundry basket, her books and papers displayed haphazardly across her desk.

She took in a deep breath, running a hand down her face. She could still see his cold steel eyes studying her.

A chill ran down her spine.

She shook it off, rolling to her side and sitting up and out of her comfortable bed. She rubbed her sleepy eyes, shuffling her way out of her bedroom and towards the bathroom at the end of the hallway. The apartment was quiet, and she assumed her roommates were either still sleeping or already gone for the day. She was lucky enough to have the day off from work.

Quick footsteps clicked behind her as Harel shadowed, happily pushing his furry face into her hands. She smiled, rubbing his ears before grabbing her toothbrush.

“Alright buddy, we’ll go for a walk. Let me wake up first.”

She began brushing her teeth, staring into her reflection. Her brown hair sat messily on top of her head in an untidy bun and she swiped a few strands from her eyes.

His voice echoed in her mind.

_Da’len._

He had used the term of endearment, marking her as his kin. It was something used by her people, something one would call a young member of a clan. While it was not an inappropriate thing to say, it was still more intimate coming from an outsider.

She rolled her eyes at her reflection, cursing herself for acting like a schoolgirl with a crush.

Still, the dream was very odd. 

Many times she would dream about her clan’s reservation and her childhood memories there, relaxing in the grassy fields while reading or weaving trinkets out of plants she found there. But he had been out of place, a lone leaf on a tree during winter.

After loading Harel in the car, Ellana drove to their favorite park across town. She clipped the dog’s leash to his harness and began making their trek along the paved pathway. As she began walking she peeked around each tree that she passed, aware of the fact that this had been the same park that she had first met Solas. To her relief, the park appeared to be empty.

“Raoul, I've been there -to his world of unending night. To a world where the daylight dissolves into darkness, darkness…”

She started running through her lines, muttering them under her breath. Might as well, since Varric had made a point to lecture them at their last rehearsal. He wanted them to memorize a select few scenes for that day, and only some of the actors had done so successfully. A select few had struggled, and one person in particular _(cough, Blackwall, cough)_ had cheated by writing his lines on the palm of his hand. Varric was not a happy camper, based on his angry ranting at the end of the night. Ellana decided it’d be best to practice her lines whenever she had the time.

“Raoul, I've seen him. Can I ever forget that sight? Can I ever escape from that face? So distorted, deformed, it was hardly a face, in that darkness, darkness…”

She probably looked like a crazy person, mumbling to herself. Fortunately it was noon, most people were at lunch and children were still at school so she had the park to herself.

There was a soft vibration from the back pocket of her shorts. She pulled out her phone, the rectangular device resting in her palm as she swiped to unlock the screen. It had been a text message from Cullen.

_\- Ellana, can you come in at 6 tonight? sera called in sick, something about an allergic reaction to a bee sting and I have no one else to bartend. let me know as soon as you can_

She sighed in frustration, hesitating as she decided on her reply. Sera was supposed to fill in for her so she could go to practice, and she knew Varric would be pissed if she told him she couldn’t go, especially since they wouldn’t have another rehearsal until the weekend. But she hated telling Cullen no. Something about those puppy eyes put a dagger to the heart. 

_\- I’ll be there. but you have to tell Varric I’ll miss tonight_

Things were still strange between the two. They both knew there were some awkward scenes in their future, including several kisses that she was desperately trying to pretend weren’t going to happen. But they went about their usual business, ignoring the topic completely and sticking to normal conversations about work and friends. They were lucky that they were equally both cowards when it came to confrontation.

Shoving her phone back into her pocket, she continued walking at a faster pace. Her feet were heavy against the ground as she let her frustrations leave her with each step.

“Yet in his eyes all the sadness of the world,” she continued. Her voice was much louder as she strolled along absent-mindedly.

“Those pleading eyes, that both threaten and adore.”

A voice from behind finished her line before she could even realize she wasn’t alone and she spun around to find the source. Solas sat on a bench, holding up a newspaper before his face. He didn’t look at her, but a sly smirk read across his mouth.

“Hello, Ellana.” He licked his finger and turned the page of the newspaper.

“Solas,” she greeted as Harel tugged on his leash to approach the man. “We always seem to run into each other. I’m starting to think you’re following me.”

He lowered his newspaper to his lap and raised an empty paper bag that sat beside him.

“Actually my office building is around the corner. I prefer having lunch out here in the quiet, where stumbling Dalish girls like to spill my expensive tea.”

Who knew someone who appeared so serious could be so snarky?

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Only if it gets me free coffee cake.”

She smiled in response to his words, enjoying how surprisingly comfortable it felt to talk to him considering she had originally been trying to avoid him after the strange dream she had that night. 

“Where do you work?” she asked as she stepped closer.

“The city has hired me as a contract historian,” he replied. “I’m sure you’ve heard about the potential archaeological finds in town?”

She nodded. “Of course. Is your expertise in Dalish history?”

“Ancient Elven history, actually,” he corrected.

“Impressive,” she said. “Maybe I can pick your brain once they finally decide to get their asses in gear and start the dig already.”

“We shall see. Most of the information is classified.”

“About that free coffee cake,” she said with a smile.

He chuckled lightly, then grabbed his bag again and politely motioned for her to join him on the bench.

She waived her hands. “Oh, no. Thanks, but I have to finish walking the dog so I can get back home and finish some things before work.”

“You have to work tonight?” he asked curiously, raising an eyebrow.

“Unfortunately.”

“Well we will miss you at rehearsal.”

“Thanks.” She pulled on the leash as Harel abandoned a bug he had been actively sniffing on the ground. “See you around.”

She turned on her heels, ready to continue on her walk. But as Solas said his goodbye, her breath hitched in her throat.

“Dareth shiral, da’len.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations (taken from Dragon Age Wiki):
> 
> Garas quenathra? – Why are you here?  
> Souver’inan isala hamin. – Weary eyes need resting.  
> Da’len- Little child, little one  
> Dareth shiral- Goodbye


	7. Electric

“…and there he was, wearing nothing but indignity and a stupefied expression as I pushed him out of the second story window to the terrace below just as the palace guards came barging in through the door. They heard his screaming through the window. That was a fun story, trying to explain why the Magister’s son turned up at the front door stark naked and with a broken ankle.”

The group of friends burst into laugher as Dorian finished his story. Varric chuckled as he pounded his fist against the bar.

“You’re lying. There’s no way that happened,” Ellana chided playfully as she promptly began to refill Varric’s drink.

“Ohhh, how I wish that I was.”

“I’m going to have to steal this for the next play I’m writing,” Varric added, “with your permission, of course.”

Dorian nodded, taking a swig of his own drink. “Go right ahead, that’s what I’m here for- to tell stories of misfortune and provide a handsome face. Which one I am better at, I cannot say.”

As Dorian turned his face away to check his phone, Ellana made eye contact with Cole who stood in front of the kitchen doors. She gave him a mischievous grin, and the young man ducked into the kitchen quickly then came back through the doors carrying a small saucer with a cupcake resting on top, a lit candle poking through the bright green frosting. Dorian looked up just in time as Cole placed the pastry in front of him.

“What is this? Oh no,” he grumbled as he ran a hand through his thick black hair.

Ellana grinned and reached under the bar to grab a small gift bag. “You don’t think we’d seriously let you off the hook this time?”

He stared at the cupcake as if it would bite him. “I hate birthdays. You know I hate birthdays.”

Cole stared at the man with wide eyes. “She made me do it.”

“Dorian Pavus, you make a wish and blow out this candle right now. Don’t make me put you in a head lock.”

“You don’t have to start threatening me, woman,” he scoffed at her. He then took a deep breath and obediently put out the flame.

Varric pat him on the back. “Happy birthday, Sparkler. Or should I just call you Phantom now?” 

“I’ve been called worse.”

“Well, regardless, here’s to another year of being you, smart remarks and all.” Varric held out his glass and clinked it against Dorian’s in cheers. “You’re getting old to be a single Tevinter. Shouldn’t you be married off by now?”

“If my family had their way,” Dorian replied gloomily, sipping his drink less eagerly than his dwarf companion.

“So what, your family had someone lined up for you?”

“Yep. She was a spitfire, attractive woman with a quick tongue. Probably thankful that I’ve moved away.”

“You two would have made a fine couple.”

Dorian rolled his eyes. “Oh, definitely. Trading coy insults at every party would have made a lifetime of happiness.”

Knowing that this was a touchy subject, Ellana interrupted by shoving the gift bag under Dorian’s nose. 

“Here! Open this. Now.”

It had been weeks since Felix had last paid visit to their apartment. Dorian had only a few lovers during the time Ellana had known him, but Felix was always the one that would light up Dorian’s eyes when he saw him. Dorian rarely spoke of their relationship, if that’s what it was to be called, because of his family’s disapproval. He tried to act like it didn’t bother him. He would joke and dismiss it if she ever tried to talk to him about it, but she knew he was devastated. 

The man who pretended, as Cole liked to refer to Dorian. The man who could force self-confidence where there was none.

To see her best friend going through such grief and refuse anyone’s help- it was heartbreaking.

So she tried her best to distract him.

He pulled out the fluffy tissue paper and rummaged through to grab his gift. He pulled out a small book, squinting to read the title.

“ _A Groomer’s Guide to the Fashionable Mustache_.” He grinned from ear to ear, gasping. “By the gods. You shouldn’t have!”

Ellana gave her friend a half-hug from across the bar, inwardly celebrating her success in making her friend smile.

“You can thank her too,” she said pointing at Leliana who was in the middle of taking a table’s dinner order. 

“What would I do without you?”

“Well have an ugly mustache, obviously,” she joked.

The night continued on this way, and thankfully she was able to get a few drinks in Dorian to help celebrate. Although, as the restaurant reached closing time, she had been peer pressured by both Dorian and Varric to have a few drinks of her own. Her cheeks had become rosy, the warmth of alcohol buzzing in her ears.

“Only because it’s your birthday and because I love you,” she cheered a little to loudly as she sipped the last of her third glass of wine. 

Good thing Cullen had already gone home. He definitely would not have approved.

“And I love you, you sweet little elf.” Dorian swayed slightly in his chair as Varric pushed him back upright.

“Alright, Sparkler, I think you’ve had enough buddy.”

Leliana giggled as she appeared behind the bar, counting the money in the register. She had already been their designated driver for that night, so they waited for the responsible waitress to finish closing.

Ellana place her empty wine glass in the sink and began absently hand washing it, thinking to herself as she listened to Varric and Dorian’s banter in the background.

“No, he’s weird.”

“Okay, he might be weird,” Varric defended, “but Solas is one of those old souls who just gets the spirit of the theater. He said he has years of experience directing all sorts of old plays and musicals. To be honest, his credentials are a little above mine. But don’t let him know I told you that, might get to his head.”

“Okay. But he is still weird. And his clothing? When he’s not wearing his boring suits, the man looks like a walking advertisement for secondhand store. Those sweaters. I mean, it’s summer for goodness sakes. It’s just sad. Where is he from, anyway?”

Varric rubbed his chin as he pondered. “Y’know, I’m not really sure. I don’t think he said.”

“Up north,” Ellana interrupted. “He told me it was a small village.”

Dorian hummed loudly. “Hmmm, someone’s been talking to our resident baldy, now, hasn’t she?”

“A little. He’s nice.”

“Sure, if you go for those serious artsy types.”

“Excuse me, no no,” she said, wiping her wet hands on her pants. “I’m not ‘going’ for anything. Don’t you start.”

The two men exchanged suggestive glances at her sudden defensiveness, and she began to ramble.

“We’ve spoken only a couple times. Alright, maybe we run into each other sometimes at the park and stuff. And maybe at the coffee shop. And maybe I-”

She had to stop herself as she almost admitted the embarrassing dream she had about him a few nights before. They really wouldn’t have let her live that down. But she knew she had already said enough by the looks they were now giving her.

“Oh, you like him,” Dorian stated matter-of-factly.

She bit her lip, turning to hide her face.

“What? Can’t hear you.”

Varric laughed. “Oh, this is too great. Our little Sneaky is growing up.”

“But has he asked you out yet, is the real question!”

Ellana shot Leliana a pleading look, but the woman ignored her and continued counting the money. She pouted, turning back to her tipsy friends.

“You stop. It’s nothing like that.”

“Oh, it’s like a little school crush!” Dorian said as he waived his hands dramatically in the air as if reading a headline. “Lead actress secretly wishes to bed the assistant director.”

She grabbed his hands, mustering the best intimidating face that she could considering her drunkenness.

“Well you’d be pleased to know that he talks about you a lot,” Varric said, catching her attention as she released her death grip on Dorian.

“Wait, really?”

“Do tell. Please, Ellana _needs_ a boyfriend. Or at least to get laid, I mean, the woman _never_ gets laid.” Dorian leaned backwards as Ellana attempted another chokehold.

Varric continued. “Oh yeah, he talks about you all the time. After every practice he just raves about how talented you are and blah blah blah. But I will say he does criticize your dancing.”

The sheepish grin that began crossing her mouth faded.

“He what?”

“He said it needs… some work.”

She perked an eyebrow. “Really now? This is coming from the same person who was telling me I was graceful after our first practice.”

“Hey, don’t look at me,” Varric said while holding his hands up as if to pledge his innocence. “I’m just repeating what I heard. Well, technically, read since he texted me.”

“Show me.”

She jutted her chin haughtily as Varric pulled out his phone and searched his messages, scrolling across his screen until he found the one he was looking for. Sure enough, there was the text from Solas right in front of her eyes.

_\- Ellana needs further practice for the dance pieces. Perhaps she should have private lessons with Zevran before rehearsals._

She stared in angry disbelief as she processed his words.

Maybe it was because she thought Solas was trying to be kind to her since they had started off on the wrong foot from their first conversation. Maybe it was because she had too many glasses of wine and was fueled with liquid courage. No matter her reasoning, what she did next she would soon regret.

“Give me that.”

She ripped the phone from Varric’s unsuspecting hand and twisted away before anyone could stop her. Before she could stop herself.

Her fingers swiped to the contacts in search for the name of her intended victim, his name suddenly appearing under “S” and she hesitated for a moment. The excitement burned under her fingertips, burned in her stomach. 

She pressed call.

“What are you doing?” 

Varric attempted to grab her arm but she stepped away, determination spread across her face.

With each ring on the other end of the call, she took a quick breath in anticipation of hearing his soft voice on the other end. She probably should have decided what she wanted to say _before_ she called.

There was no answer. Of course, since it was almost midnight and he probably had important grown up things to do, like sleep. She heard a beep as the voicemail began recording.

“Solas, this is Ellana. Lavellan. Ellana Lavellan.”

_Good job. Way to start off great. At least you aren’t slurring your words._

“I was just speaking to our friend Varric, here, and he had something very interesting to say. He tells me that you were talking smack about my dance skills.”

Dorian rolled his eyes at her choice of words, placing his head face-first onto the bar.

“I can’t believe I’m listening to this train wreck.”

Ellana ignored him.

“Well if you think I’m so terrible, then maybe you should teach me a thing or two. Saturday morning, before rehearsals. The theater. 8 o’clock. Be there.”

And with that, she tapped the red button to hang up.

\---

The rest of the week, she was an absolute mess. What had driven her to drunk-dial Solas she will never know, but realization of her bold move hit her later when she had a sober mind.

At first, she decided to play it off as if she never really called him. That probably wouldn’t go too smoothly, since she had left him the voicemail. She even begged Varric to pretend as if he was the one who called as a joke, but he quickly reminded her that he was definitely a male with a male voice.

_Crap._

And she hadn’t heard or seen Solas for the remainder of the week. She had no idea if he even listened to her voicemail. But what if he had? What would he think? Probably that she was immature and/or an alcoholic. What if he did show up that morning? So she would _have_ to go, because she would feel bad if he sat around and waited for her all day. Maybe he really could help her learn her dance routine. Maybe he was a good dancer.

Her mind would wander at work, imagining him helping her, those strong hands on her hips and guiding her as she moved…

Then she would quickly snap out of her daydream. Because it was ridiculous.

Perhaps she did have some sort of crush on Solas, this mysterious man she barely knew.

Saturday morning rolled around faster than she anticipated, and she decided it would be best to suck it up and go. At the worst, maybe he wouldn’t even show and she could get some extra practice time to herself. Or maybe that would be best-case scenario, as she thought about the possibility that he _would_ show up.

Anxiety creeping in, she hesitated as she walked into the theater. She clutched the straps of her bag that was thrown over her shoulder, noticing the harsh quietness of the building. As she reached the dance room, she saw that no lights were on as if it were empty and she sighed in relief, pushing open the door. 

Just as she placed her bag on the ground and flicked the light switch, she saw Solas’ reflection in the mirror along the long wall. He was sitting at the desk, his hands folded above a book he had just placed in front of him. He did not show surprise at her entrance, nor did he appear annoyed or irritated as she imagined he would be. Instead, an amused smirk crossed his face as he stood. 

“Aneth ara, da’len.”

There it was again, _da’len_ , as he called her in her dream. She was surprised at how natural it felt for him to call her that. 

However, as she nodded in his direction and mumbled “Hahren,” the word felt hot and strange on her tongue. 

She pulled her character shoes out of her bag and slipped them on her feet, avoiding his gaze.

“Thank you for coming.” 

She wanted to apologize for her awkward phone call, how she knew this whole thing was probably weird, but she decided against it because she knew she would end up babbling like an idiot. Instead, she tried to play cool and secretly pray the next hour would fly by before everyone else showed up for rehearsal.

“Do you remember the routine?” he asked as he readied the music for her in the stereo. 

Finally she turned to him, pulling her hair back into a high ponytail and trying to swallow the trepidation that threatened her voice.

“For the most part. I think I can handle myself since, you know, I’m _graceful_ ,” she teased.

“Oh?”

He took the bait, moving to lean in front of the desk as he casually crossed his arms. The butterflies in her stomach began to flutter.

“Although I do need some work, apparently.”

He chuckled at her reference. “Ah, yes. I see Varric has shared my messages with you. Just know that even though I think you to be perfectly capable, it is still important to practice your abilities if you are to have a lead role.”

“Oh, I have been. I think you’ll be surprised,” she challenged with a playful smile.

“We shall see.”

He reached out a hand to the stereo, waiting for her nod to begin before he pressed play.

She found her place along the far wall, placing her hands to her sides as the music started. The song played, just as it had during the many times she had listened to it during practices. She tried to remind herself that’s all this was, just another practice, as she tried to ignore the weight of his observant eyes on her. She moved, light on her feet as she stepped forward and leapt into the air, landing on her feet again before turning and repeating the same move. He turned his head as he watched her dance across the room.

As she rose her hands into the air, she leaned forward into a bow and then scooped her torso upwards again. She leaned backwards and wobbled slightly as she lost her balance. Solas appeared beside her instantly and grabbed her arm before she could fall.

“Try placing your feet wider apart,” he suggested and she widened her stance.

“Good. Again.”

He walked back to the stereo and restarted the song, Ellana starting the dance again from the beginning.

This time, she followed his instructions and finished the move with ease. As she moved, she would catch quick glimpses of his face, his eyes roaming over her entire body. 

Even though he was being completely professional, a cool expression on his face, she still felt a heavy tension as she became a spectacle before him.

“Try to loosen your shoulders,” he said causing her thought process to halt.

She faced the mirror and continued until she felt a presence behind her, Solas’ reflection showing his approach as he held out his hands. 

“May I?” he asked politely.

“Of course.”

She watched in the mirror as he raised his hands, hovering over her shoulders. A shiver ran down her back.

“You are too tense, Ellana.”

He grasped her arms, swaying her from side to side to the rhythm of the music.

“Harden your focus, concentrate on each move instead of worrying about what comes next.”

His voice was sharp, demanding her attention. He released his grasp as she fell into step, spinning slowly with her arms raised. 

“Better. Watch your form.”

He followed, walking slowly beside her as she continued spinning.

“Slowly, da’len.”

She felt two hands graze lightly over her sides and she slowed, moving towards him as if they were magnetic. She faced him, his eyes tipped downwards and locked on hers. There was a static, electric buzz and her skin felt as if it were on fire beneath his touch.

He said nothing, his face expressionless as he held onto her, his breath sweet against her face as she lost control of her own breathing. 

Time stood still. 

She saw nothing but him, a beacon in the darkness, a moth drawn to the light. She wanted him closer, wanted to know nothing else in that moment but his pursed lips against hers. He was so tall, his arms so strong as she held onto him. He pulled her closer until she was against his hard chest, his face inches from hers.

There was a loud noise from across the room, an unambiguous cough breaking the moment, the intense electricity falling away as did his arms. Solas took a step away from her and they both turned towards their visitor.

Zevran stood in the doorway to the room with his eyebrows raised in scandal, the music filling the silence in the background.

“Well, well, well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Zevran would be the best person walk in on some Solavellan action.
> 
>  
> 
> Some in-game dialogue used between Varric and Dorian, taken from http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Dorian_Pavus/Dialogue


	8. Madame

At first he had cursed himself for even considering meeting her that morning. It was childish, as was her drunken phone call, and he was a busy man with more important issues to worry his mind.

But he couldn’t stop thinking of her.

This mortal Dalish woman had a hold of him, even from the first moment he saw her he couldn’t deny.

As any man would notice, she was certainly beautiful. Her face had a softness with eyes that spoke of a troubled past that intrigued him, along with a curious mind. Perhaps that was the spark of his interest, because Fen’Harel had been with many beautiful women during his lifetime. Physical appearances were far too simple. No, the complexity of the intellectual was what truly caught his attention. 

She definitely had curious responses for him during conversations. She was thoughtful. 

Plus, Ellana had connections that could prove important to him, possibly even useful. 

He needed the ancient artifact hidden in the ruin, and he needed whatever support he could to obtain it without notice. He needed to remain hidden, needed someone to help him get close enough while still remaining hidden.

Ellana was friends with just the right people. She was part of a Dalish clan, had the right kind of knowledge that could put her in all the right places.

 _She could be useful,_ he told himself. _She is exactly what you need._

Oh, how clever was this plan formulating in his head, one that could rival his godly namesake as the “trickster.”

He would have to get close enough to her so he could carry out this plan. Strictly for the purpose of achieving what he needed, he tried to convince himself. He would form no attachments. He was a god, after all.

The Dread Wolf walks alone.

 

So he met her that morning, a new agenda on his mind. He would allow their friendship to blossom, cultivate their bond in order to gain her trust. He would be her confidante, her _hahren._

But he was surprised at the heat in his belly when he first heard her call him that. He was surprised at the pull he felt the moment she started dancing, and he couldn’t stop himself. His body reacted before his mind, his hands alive as they glided around her delicate frame, his heart pounding against the boundaries of his chest, the flowery scent of her filling him as he breathed in the intoxication of her…

He was thankful for their interruption. For once since their first meeting, he was happy to see Zevran’s smug existence leaning casually in the doorway, one arm propped against the frame and a toothy grin stretching from ear to ear. Ellana turned away, obviously embarrassed by the moment as she moved to grab her bag from the floor. 

“Look at what we have here.” Zevran’s eyebrows began a suggestive dance, bouncing wildly on his forehead.

Solas stood stoic as ever, unmoving and unaffected as if his hands weren’t just placed on the swaying hips of the woman with rosy lips and cheeks that had been merely inches away from his own.

Ellana grabbed her bag and pushed passed the study of Zevran’s watchful eyes to leave the room. Solas followed her into the hallway then reached out to touch her shoulder and she turned to him, blue eyes wide with anticipation of his words.

She was innocent, so pure, so unworthy of his corrupting touch. Iniquitous he had been for letting the moment escalate and he needed to focus on the task at hand.

And the mask he wore returned.

He asked her to breakfast since they still had time before rehearsal. Conversation was all he wanted, he convinced himself, nothing more.

But she was absolutely fascinating.

She seemed nervous at first, keeping her quick hands busy with her napkin on the table during the uncomfortable lull of silence. His mind wandered, picturing how Ellana would be during his own time, if those same quick hands would wield a staff or perhaps a bow.

He was surprised when her voice broke the silence.

“What are you reading?”

“Pardon?”

Her fingers gripped a spoon, stirring in the contents of a sugar packet into her coffee. 

“I always see you with a book in hand. I’m curious what you’ve been reading about.”

“Research, mostly,” he answered, shifting slightly in his seat. “Particularly focused on my field in ancient Elven history, considering my position.”

“Here I thought you were already an expert.”

Her eyes returned to his, watchful and interested and her voice was teasing, not at all the timid girl he thought her to be. Oh, how this woman was full of surprises.

“I may be an expert, but it is imperative to recognize different perspectives. _The Fall Of Arlathan_ by Gisharel, _The Travels of a Chantry Scholar_ by Brother Genitivi, _The Rise and Fall of the Dales_ by Sarethia,” he listed, rattling off the titles and names with ease.

This was not entirely a lie. He did need to become familiar with the view of the ancient world through modern society’s eyes. He chose to keep that part to himself- another of his half-truths.

“I also enjoy reading about Orlesian politics, now and then.”

“Really?” Her face lit with intrigue. “I never would have guessed. Who are you a supporter of?”

He contemplated his answer as a hand touched lightly to his chin. “Truly? I support no one. I find much of their focus to be of personal vendettas rather than that of the people.”

“Hmm… I would have thought you were a supporter of Briala, if only for the sake of her preservation of Elven history. You do know that she is campaigning to oversee the excavation of the ruins in town.”

“Of course,” he replied quickly, “but that has no meaning if it further delays the process. What good will it do to argue over ownership of something that was never truly yours to begin with? No one can claim those ruins because the original inhabitants are long gone. It belongs to history, it is not theirs to take.”

His voice came harsh and uninhibited, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she held her head high, listening attentively as she reflected his words. A moment of thoughtful silence passed.

“And the sooner it’s excavated, the sooner it can be studied and the history be shared. For all of us,” she added.

“That is the plan.”

He considered her for a moment, watching distractingly as her lips pursed while she took a sip of her coffee.

“This must be important to you.”

She nodded. “It is. I’ve been following the news closely for my clan. They live out in the Dales, so it takes some time to get the information to them. Thankfully I have my friend Cassandra who keeps me in the loop.”

“Ah yes, Sheriff Pentaghast,” he recalled with indifference. “A very persistent woman. I’ve had some interesting conversations with her in regards to my qualifications. It appears she doesn’t trust my expertise.”

“That sounds like her,” Ellana laughed, smiling fondly at the thought of her friend. “I’m sorry if she’s giving you a hard time. It takes a while to earn her trust, to put it mildly.”

“She is definitely perfect for her role as Madame Giry. The intimidation will come naturally for her.”

“I’ll tell her to give you a break. Besides, I’ll need you both in good spirits if I want to get any inside information about the excavation. That’s if it’ll even happen,” she sighed. “I promised my keeper I’d have news for our clan to present at the Arlathvenn.”

He remembered the hearing of the Arlathvenn, gathering of the Dalish clans to observe and celebrate their culture- a ridiculous event, he had thought. Mere children discussing a world they could never comprehend, peering through their fogged glass at something they could never see. Although, he knew this was a sensitive subject for Ellana based on the stressful tone in her voice. 

“If you were to study the ruin, how would you use that information?”

“I’d share it with my people, of course. I’d want them to know. We’ve already lost so much of our history.” She peered down at her hands, cupping them around the glass mug. “But I’d want to restore what we once had- if it were possible. Maybe life with that knowledge would be better for us.”

He watched her intently, aware of his heart beating against his chest as the astonishment of her words consumed him. 

This woman was truly unique, with a thoughtfulness he hadn’t found in quite some time.

“What if it isn’t? What if you wake to find the future you shaped is worse than what was?”

Her eyes met his. “Then I will keep trying.”

“You are not what I expected,” he breathed. “Maybe I have misjudged the Dalish.” 

A sweet smile played across her mouth. “Maybe. But I am my own person.”

They finished their breakfast together, discussing more about politics and Solas’ knowledge of history. Her questions seemed endless, asking him about the ancient world and how he came to know so much of the subject. At first he struggled to explain his educational background, but the vague explanations came easily after she accepted his answers. 

He found it so exciting to talk and debate with her and he was constantly fascinated by her responses. Instead of being conclusive in her thoughts like most people he had met in this modern world, she was curious and analytical. She would ask further questions, her mind a sponge with a thirst of knowledge. For the first time since his waking, Solas felt as if he was among an equal, someone who could understand him, someone he could let see behind the mask. 

But he could never let that happen.

\---

His voice was so smooth and he spoke with such ease, an iambic pentameter lull to his words as if the poetry of language came so naturally. Listening to him speak was so hypnotic that in the moment it was all she wished to do for the rest of her life. Not only that, but the man had such an addicting passion behind his discussion. She’d have to remind herself to occasionally look away at something else and that she probably looked like a crazy person the way she stared.

They were both so enraptured by their conversation that neither of them realized they were almost late to practice.

Solas paid the bill, despite Ellana’s protests, and they quickly made their way back to the theater. Luckily they hadn’t been _that_ late since they found the cast and crew standing around the stage while Varric continued a heated discussion with a woman Ellana had never seen before. 

“Ah! There you two are. We’ve been waiting for you,” he scolded as they approached. “Ellana, I have someone here I want you to meet.”

Varric stepped to the side, pulling Ellana by the arm to stand in their huddle. The woman turned to her, arching an intimidating eyebrow. She was tall, by human standards, and she held herself high as if symbolizing her high position. Her dark skin held a beautiful glow against the elegant dress she wore.

“This is Madame De Fer, Councilmember of the court and the new owner of the theater.” 

“Pleased to meet you, my dear.”

She held out a slender hand and Ellana shook it, noticing the tight grip and cold touch that sent icy waves to her core. Although her voice was welcoming, Ellana knew this woman was not one to be crossed.

“I appreciate the introduction, but there is no need for formalities. Please call me Vivienne.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ellana returned, smiling.

“And Solas, dear, nice to see you again, however late it may be.”

Solas, who stood a few steps away, a hint of disdain as he simply nodded at her acknowledgement. “Madame. My apologies, we were caught up with dance rehearsal.”

Ellana tried to ignore the smirk spreading across Varric’s face at Solas’ explanation for their late arrival.

“Come with me. There is much to do now that you are here.”

She was quickly whisked away as Vivienne wrapped an arm around hers and pulled her away as her embarrassment was left behind with the two men. 

For such a sophisticated looking woman, Vivienne had a walk with the strength of a racehorse and Ellana took several paces to keep up as she followed alongside into the hallway. 

“You must meet with our costume designer. The poor dear has been working tirelessly trying to order the fabrics of your outfit for this weekend and she needs to take your measurements. I fear there may not be enough time, but if anyone can get the job done it is definitely her,” she said, whipping her around a corner towards a large back room at the end of the hall. She spoke quickly, and Ellana struggled to follow her words.

“I’m sorry, you said my outfit for this weekend?”

“Yes, of course dear,” she replied, waving her free hand as she spoke. “I cannot have the lead actors dressed normally for such an event. You will all be wearing your grand costumes, all hand made and worn for display. There will be an auction for our guests to raise funds for production costs.”

This explanation only furthered Ellana’s confusion. “Sorry, what event?”

“Why the fundraising gala here at the theater, of course. Did Varric not tell you? It will be quite the grand event.”

They entered the room and she noticed a buzzing noise emanating from the sewing machine in the far corner. A young woman sat behind it, her quick hands busy as she guided a large piece of fabric through the machine.

“Yes, the grand event that has been planned last minute,” the young woman mumbled behind a needle she held between her lips. She finished her sewing, placing the needle into a pincushion before standing from her seat.

“And if anyone can is able to pull it off, it is you,” Vivienne replied as she guided Ellana to a small fitting platform placed in front of a mirror. “Ellana, this is our costume designer, Josephine.”

“Yes, designer and event coordinator and secretary and personal slave.”

Josephine appeared next to Vivienne with a roll of measuring tape in her hand. Although the Antivan woman seemed tired, her eyes heavy against her tanned complexion and black hair pulled messily into a bun, she seemed friendly as she smiled sweetly. 

“I’ve been very excited to meet you,” she said pleasantly in her rolling accent. “Are you ready to get down to business?”

“I gue- oh! Okay.”

Before Ellana could finish responding, Josephine rolled up the sleeves of her blouse as she leaned down, stretching and tugging the tape around Ellana’s hips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awkward flow, but I had to split it for the next chapter. But I love diving into Solas' head, I think like most of us do. He's so complicated. I always imagined him trying to repress his feelings for Lavellan at the beginning of the game and trying to convince himself that his attraction to her is only to carry out his plans- which might be true, at first, but he slowly comes to realize that he sees so much of himself reflected in her and and and. I could go on and on. You can tell me what you think.
> 
> Also, I love Josephine and her adorableness. So excited to finally include her.


	9. Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana crumbles under the pressure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning- general descriptions of anxiety and panic attacks, in case they are possible triggers.
> 
> For anyone has been following this crazy story, sorry it took a while for this chapter. I literally moved four time zones away and it took longer for me to get settled back into life and whatnot. But thanks for sticking around.

Thoughts can be a sickness, creeping into your mind and being. They can control your body and force you into dark, uncomfortable places before you even realize what is happening. It can happen slowly over time and then one last thought can push you over the edge.

Anxiety is a lonely, destructive monster.

Ellana knew it too well.

It had always kept her on the outside looking in, close enough to see but not touch. For a long time she convinced herself that she liked it that way. She was safe and she didn’t have to try to be anyone or anything. But she lost herself that way.

When she was young, Deshanna taught her that elves were not looked upon greatly in the world. The Dalish were even wary of their own kind; they were strict, critical and judging, the preservation of their heritage too precious to leave room for the individual. You could be a favored clan member in one moment and then banished in the next. The lives of city elves weren’t much better for obvious reasons since they were expected to adhere to a society that wouldn’t accept their company. 

_Stick to the shadows,_ Deshanna told her as she made her way into the world outside of her clan. _Hold your head high but keep your voice soft._ It wasn’t about fighting the world, but learning to survive in it.

In a way Ellana was thankful for her elder’s advice, because she did survive. She made a life for herself. Yet she was so lost inside. She was strong, yes, but strength means nothing if you have no drive behind it.

Now she had too much resting on her shoulders than what she was used to. She was now the one in the spotlight, and everyone was watching her. Everyone was expecting from her, and it was pushing her over the edge.

She stood in front of the mirror, Josephine’s busy hands moving quickly at Ellana’s feet she pulled the fabric of the gown to hem the extra length. Ellana watched in the mirror, shifting now and then to add weight to the other foot as she grew tired from standing. As tired as she was from lack of sleep (thanks to Cullen for scheduling her late shifts at work after rehearsals) she knew that she couldn’t possibly be as exhausted as Josephine. The poor woman had been running like mad all week trying to plan for the fundraising gala, working with event decorators and caterers all while trying to finish each of their costumes that would be placed for auction. It seemed like quite the job, and Ellana even felt bad for her, even guilty for having her own worries. But somehow Josephine always met her with a kind smile, even during that day during her final fitting before the event.

She admired the handiwork of the dress, leaning slightly so as not to disturb Josephine as she worked but enough to see the details in the fabric surrounding her. The gown was a beautiful, soft color of dusty rose and was full in the skirt that hung to the floor. The bodice was elegant with a deep boat neckline and it’s sleeves white lace and hanging off her shoulders. The back also hung low beneath her shoulder blades, and the skirt was bundled partway down, showcasing several beautiful red and pink roses tucked underneath.

“You’re very talented,” she pointed out, breaking the silence. “This dress is gorgeous- especially for being so last minute. I don’t know how you do it.”

Josephine sighed a laugh, pulling a pin out from between her teeth and sticking it into the fabric, careful to not poke her model.

“I might’ve pulled some of my hair out in the process, but we’re getting there. Vivienne insisted I use the finest cloths from a trader in Val Royeaux. _Only the best for our guests_ ,” she mimicked in her best Madame de Fer impression. 

She finished and stood, straightening the small train draping from the back of the gown and eyeing it critically. After a moment of staring, her hand resting on her chin, she hummed in approval. She then reached to her desk, grabbing something and placing it in Ellana’s hand. It was a stick of some sort, and as Ellana raised it in examination she noticed a small white mask attached to the other end, also adorned in lace and one decorative rose. She held it up to her face after a nudge of encouragement from Josephine, the mask covering just around her eyes and leaving her nose bare.

“There. Now the look is complete.”

Ellana stared back at her reflection that was almost unrecognizable underneath the frill and embellishments. Never had she imagined herself to be the type of girl to wear something so feminine, so elaborate and decorative. She looked so fragile and small underneath it all. It was all still so foreign to her.

_If my clan could see me now._ She could guarantee some would actually laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

A sudden squeal brought her from her thoughts as a figure rushed through the doorway and zoomed towards her.

“Look at you!” Leliana’s voice sang as she grabbed Ellana’s hand in excitement. “Maker’s breath, you’re a freaking princess. Josie, you truly are a miracle worker.”

“Thank you! I’d hope it looks good, at least, since people will be bidding for it.”

Ellana felt her stomach lurch. She almost forgot that she’d actually be wearing this _in front_ of people. 

“Speaking of our guests, are you ready to sport this in front of every important person in Orlais?” Josephine asked as she began unfastening the clasps on the back of the gown.

Leliana leaned casually against the desk, the excitement of gossip in her eyes. “I heard the Empress will be attending! Is it true?”

“I can’t give away our guest list,” Josephine announced importantly, “however… I will say that particular measures have been taken to arrange a throne at the end of the dinner table.”

“I knew it! Oh, how exciting,” Leliana exclaimed, clapping her hands. “We get to meet the Empress! Who else will be there?”

The two women continued their discussion, unaware of their friend who was now aggressively shimmying out of the dress and back into her jeans and t-shirt.

She completely forgot how big of an event this was supposed to be, even forgot the influential acquaintances Vivienne would be inviting. These people would be watching _her_. It wouldn’t be a small setting like rehearsals had been, but an actual crowd of strangers including people of grand titles. She would have to perform in front of them, these nobles, with everyone’s eyes resting on her. The realization was overwhelming.

It was all too much.

She suddenly couldn’t breath. She reached a hand out, grabbing the closest thing as she knocked down a pile of small boxes, various sewing supplies tumbling out of their containers to the floor.

Leliana and Josephine rushed to her side, each grabbing an arm.

“Ellana! Are you alright?” 

She could hear Leliana’s voice as she sucked in short breaths, but her lungs felt empty. She saw nothing but the carpet at her feet, unaware of the panic around her. There were more footsteps around her, someone yelling out into the hallway, and soon more voices were in the room but they were muffled behind the harsh drumming of her heart in her ears. 

She knew what was happening but she couldn’t stop it- the familiar monster reaching for her, it’s dark limbs surrounding her, encompassing her, possessing her body.

She couldn’t speak, nothing but hyperventilation escaping her lips. The thoughts came rushing through her mind.

_You don’t belong. You aren’t good enough. You will fail, you will fail, you will fail…_

Adrenaline became ice in her veins and she wanted to run, wanted to flee from her own self but she was stuck. She couldn’t move, paralyzed with fear.

A hand brushed the small beads of sweat from her forehead.

“What’s happening?”

“Is she alright?”

“Someone help her!”

“Take her home, Dorian. She needs rest.”

The ground disappeared from underneath her as someone picked up her stiff body, and she was too dizzy to notice who it was or to object their handling. She lost track of time, lost to the fact that she had been placed in a car and then carried inside her apartment. It wasn’t until she was in complete darkness of her bedroom, until she felt the cold air from her ceiling fan brushing against her wet skin when she finally came to.

The first thing she noticed was the sharp pain of her dry throat as she took in a deep breath. 

She rolled over, turning from the wall she had been facing to see a glass of water that had been placed on her nightstand. Grabbing the glass faster than she could sit up, she spilt a few drops on her chest as she scrambled to chug its remnants. With her stomach filled and her thirst finally satiated, she placed the glass back on the stand and peered around her dark bedroom.

She ached. The muscles in her arms and legs were spent, throbbing as she attempted to stretch her limbs but finding no relief. Her bed felt rough and uncomfortable under her tender spots. 

She needed something, or someone, to ease her pain. She felt lonelier between those four walls than she had ever felt before.

Before she could process her thoughts she found her feet touching the floor and crossing her room towards the door. It was as if it were automatic, her body knowing exactly who to turn to for comfort.

The rest of the apartment was dark aside from a faint glow of a lamp peeking from underneath Dorian’s bedroom and Ellana knew that she didn’t need to knock. He was always there for her, always welcoming.

He was sitting on his bed, reclined as he buried his face in a book, the binding torn and frayed similarly to that of the ones piled high on his desk. The library he worked at would occasionally rid of old inventory that were either too worn or out of date and taking up space, and Dorian would take what he could before the books were donated. He built quite the personal collection, his room crowded by towers of textbooks and other miscellaneous genres.

“Ever the bookworm,” she teased as he finally noticed her entrance, his eyes peering over old pages. 

His smile was quickly overrun by concern, holding back any witty comebacks he had prepared for his friend. “You sound awful, Ellana.”

She moved quickly across his room, dodging the piles of books as she crawled into his bed. He placed his book on his stomach, reaching down to pull his plush comforter up around her just as he always did when she came to him like that. It was their routine.

“Can I stay?”

“Of course, little thing.” 

“Thank you, Dorian. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d have one less dashingly handsome friend in your life, that’s for sure.” He pat her awkwardly on the head as they both emitted a small chuckle.

This was what she needed- someone who listened but didn’t ask. Dorian never pushed, never made her talk about her anxiety. He never invaded her space or overwhelmed her, but he would wait and let her come to him. He would distract her from her troubles, just as she always did for him.

“What’s the topic tonight?”

He lifted the book back up, propping it on his belly as he read the title. “ _The Fall of Arlathan._ Bit of a depressing topic, really, not sure how you’ll feel about it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Dorian, I’m Dalish. I already know all about it, no need to be embarrassed.”

“Yes- uh, well,” he continued, “I thought it might be an interesting read considering the excavation and all. I thought I might learn something about the ruin.”

“I was actually just talking about this book the other day,” she said, smiling as she remembered her breakfast with Solas. That event, of course, she’d keep to herself because she knew Dorian would give her a hard time.

“It seems here,” he said, returning to the page he had been reading, “that there were several temples in this area, some of which have already been discovered. One that was never recorded, however, was the temple of- excuse me if I butcher the name- Fen’Hair-ill?”

“Fen’Harel,” she corrected, nuzzling one of his pillows sleepily.

He coughed awkwardly. “Right, Fen’Harel. Of course. Well, it says that the temple was one of the smallest known, possibly explaining why it hasn’t yet been uncovered and why the town could have been built upon it...”

She felt her eyes grow heavier, listening to his words as they slowly began dwindling into the background, following her as sleep overtook her. Unbeknownst to her, she was entering into the fade.


	10. Magic

She could picture the stone walls just as Dorian vaguely described. His voice echoed through the dark hall as she walked hesitantly, turning now and then to peer over her shoulder and finding nothing but thick shadows growing in the distance. Slowly his voice faded until there was nothing but the sound of water falling in the distance. 

There was a calming presence, something about this place that felt familiar yet intriguing as she had never seen it before. Energy radiated through the air and passed over her in waves, the small hairs on her arms and neck rising as her skin prickled in response, intensity growing with each footstep. 

Despite her curiosity, she knew there was something strange about her surroundings that she couldn’t quite place, a feeling that she didn’t belong. 

She continued, her mind searching, as she rounded another dark corner. Finally she could see parts of the path before her as moonlight shone down through tiny cracks above. A few drops of dew fell from the cracked ceiling and landed on her face as she raised a hand to shield her eyes.

“An’daran Atish’an.”

The sudden sound of a voice caused her to jump, her heart racing from the unexpected surprise. Upon lowering her hand she caught sight of a tall figure standing off in the distance, leaning casually against a damp stone pillar. She knew who it was immediately.

“Solas.”

The smile slowly spreading across her face could be heard in her voice, and she quickened her pace as she eagerly approached her friend. He straightened, squaring his shoulders and standing with such poise as he always did.

“I should have guessed you would be here, and yet I find myself astounded by your presence once again.”

“I should say the same, _lethal’lin._ ”

She let the term slip and roll off her tongue with ease, without hesitation, as she was overcome with the realization that she was dreaming, bravery growing in her lucidity. The form of the man she had grown so fond of was not physically real but something conjured in her mind, as far as she knew. She could be bolder. She didn’t have to be held in the chains of shyness that restricted her in the real world.

His eyebrows lifted at her chosen endearment, defining him with a closeness as kin or a clan member. It was the slightest movement- a small reaction, but she was satisfied. She realized the potential of how fun this dream could be.

She stopped before him, his strong face highlighted by moonlight as he peered down at her questioningly.

“Can we talk about you being ‘astounded’ by me again? Because that sounds like an interesting topic.”

A throaty chuckle escaped his lips and he offered a small grin. “Surrounded by an ancient temple yet to be discovered and that is what has your attention?”

“Well it was hard to see considering how dark it is,” she replied while sheepishly pointing to the void behind her. “You looked like you were deep in thought. What about this place has your attention?”

He hesitated, tilting his head as he observed her. “Many things.”

“Hmm.” 

While it may have been fun to exchange flirtations with this dream Solas, the intense look on his face seemed too real. She could feel her neck growing warm.

She took a moment to look around now that there was a source of light, welcoming a distraction. Stepping passed Solas, she reached out to touch the white stone of the pillar behind him. It seemed to shimmer beneath the layer of mist from the humidity in the air, twinkling under her fingertips as she grazed them along the center of a decorative band with wolves carved to appear as if they were howling to the moon. 

“Beautiful,” she murmured under her breath.

“Indeed.”

She turned back to Solas who was watching her intently, unsure whether he meant the sculpture or...

She coughed. “What is this place?”

“Come,” he said, extending a hand to her. “I wish to show you.”

Quickly accepting his hand, she followed him passed several more pillars and around another corner, twisting and turning and trying everything in her to ignore the heat of his palm on hers, fingers entwined in their grasp. 

She followed behind until they entered into a large archway leading into a cavernous room. He pulled her next to him so she could peer down from the top of the stairway they now stood.

As she took in the scenery below, she felt her breath escape her lungs.

It was like nothing she had seen before- nothing like the fields she knew as a child with her clan or the towers of buildings in the city she now lived. It was nothing she could have imagined.

Lush greenery sprouted from everywhere, flowers blooming and vines twisting elegantly around stone pillars that sprung from the ground. There was a large gap in the ceiling above that allowed water to fall freely, pouring down to the center of the room and pooling into a large basin sunk into the stone flooring. The water was clear, casting ripples of moonlight across the entire room. In the back there was another set of stairs that led to a platform that held a large stone throne, the back carved similarly in the shape of a howling wolf.

The entire place felt less like a grand hall than a cave or a secret oasis. She had walked right into the wolf’s den.

“Is this…?” The words came slowly, and she was careful never to tear her eyes from the wonder before her.

“The Temple of Fen’Harel.”

A chill ran over her as the feeling of static energy grew, pulsing like waves through her body, now stronger than it felt before as if they had found it’s center. 

“Can you feel it? Remnants of what once was,” his voice a soft whisper, close to her ear as the sound of the waterfall echoed through the cavern. “Here the ancients roamed. A part of Arlathan, though not nearly as grand is it had once been. Imagine the beauty it once held, crystal spires reaching to the sky, as solid as the stone built into these walls. Imagine the people walking through this place, strong and immortal.”

Even if this were a dream, it was still so absolutely breathtaking and she allowed herself to believe it to be real.

He moved to stand beside her and she turned to him, gazing into his eyes as they searched the room below. Although his words held grandeur, his face seemed lost and read of sorrow. She realized they were still holding hands, and rubbed her thumb along his.

“The Dalish speak of the beauty of Arlathan, but I never imagined this. How could it be?” she asked rhetorically. “How could our people have forgotten so much?”

“Melava inan enansal, da’lath’in, now our people are lost to time.” 

It was the first time he had referred to the people as _theirs_. Before he spoke of her Dalish roots as something so foreign, but now he spoke as if he truly saw her as an equal.

“It makes me wonder what else we got wrong. You say the people were once immortal. I believe, Solas, I truly do,” she explained, “but how could that be possible?”

“The world before is not what we know now. The people were capable of many things,” he began, offering his knowledge with ease. “The stories are true, though some have changed with time, but the foundations of them remain.”

He faced her suddenly, his eyes piercing with eagerness that instantly grasped her attention.

“Ellana, what if I were to tell you of the impossible? That our people could bend the world with their minds and their spirits?”

She let out a small breath of disbelief, almost grinning from his sudden enthusiasm.

“Go on,” she said, biting down her smirk.

“What if I told you that the energy you feel now was once pliable and could be manipulated? The people long ago could use this energy with their will, form it, bend it and cause it to change- that this was once a skill that all ancient elven could wield.”

Confusion swept over her as she contemplated his words. “So…,” she enunciated slowly, “what are you saying? That our people were capable of _magic_?”

“Precisely.” He watched her, waiting for her reaction.

She felt unsure, not quite comprehending the capacity of these revelations he laid before her. Finally, she nodded.

“I believe you.”

It was more of a confession than an affirmation, as if she was surprised at her ability to trust this man so fully. What he spoke of was strange, of course, but she felt deep down, all the way to her core, that everything he ever said to her was genuine.

Dream Solas or not.

“How could we have fallen so far from what we once were?” she asked.

He let go of her hand and reached up to her face, the tips of his fingers lightly tracing the lines of her vallaslin beneath her eyes and across her cheekbones. His touch was gentle, a soft brush of wind at her skin as she melted into his caresses. She took the moment to study his face, taking advantage of the closeness she knew she wouldn’t find in the waking world. There were several features she had never noticed before, like the faint freckles delicately placed on his cheeks and nose and the small scar just above the tip of his right eyebrow.

“How there’s so much I wish I could show you,” he whispered, locking his eyes to her own. 

There was so much behind his words, she felt, as if he were holding back a part of him.

He sighed heavily and closed his eyes, working his expression back into neutrality and fighting off whatever thoughts ran through his mind. It saddened her to see him so distraught, see him genuinely troubled by something he held inside. She didn’t press the matter, however, but offered her comfort. 

“Solas, whatever you’re facing- you don’t have to do it alone,” she assured.

“Thank you.”

He didn’t accept, but offered a small smile in return as he dropped his hand.

“Here you are,” he said, waving a hand towards the cavern as if to change the subject, “in the depths of the Dread Wolf’s temple with no fear except for my own. Whatever shall you do?”

She smirked. “Nuva mar’shos’lahn’en ir’tel’dera Fen’Harel.”

“’Ma Serannas,” he played along, “but what of you? Do you have no fear?”

“I think I can handle myself,” she replied haughtily, tipping her chin towards him. “Besides, I don’t think he’d mind. I mean, _look_ at this place, it’s huge. There’s so much room it’d be lonely by yourself. I bet he invites all of his neighbors over for pool parties.”

He chuckled, tilting his head back freely, so unreserved in contrast to how he always seemed to be. She liked this side of him. She couldn’t get enough.

“Yes, I’m sure it’s a grand event to make all of the other gods burn with jealousy.”

“I’ll bet,” she said, taking a step forward and pointing to the adjacent throne, “he sits there the whole time. He probably watches while all the beautiful women parade in their bathing suits.”

“Only if it were you doing the parading.”

His breath was at her neck, and she could almost feel the rumbling of his voice from his chest that rested on her shoulder blade. 

“Sweet talker.”

Before she could stop or hold herself back as she would in the real world, she snaked her arm around and placed it along his cheek, pulling his face towards hers, his chest pressed against her back. He too seemed surprised, closing his eyes quickly as their lips lightly touched.

He was so soft, his touch like silk, his lips like pieces to a puzzle that matched so perfectly with hers. Her heart leapt in her chest, the energy in the room pulling towards them in a rush that sent fire through them. She wanted to savor it, hold this moment forever.

But he pulled away, stepped away from her and she turned around, searching for meaning behind his unreadable expression. He was staring at her in wonder, mouth hanging open as if lost in contemplation. 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, barely audible behind her embarrassment. She swallowed, waiting for him to respond.

He said nothing. 

For a long moment he stared, and she inwardly prayed that she would wake up to take her away from this awkwardness she couldn’t seem to evade even in sleep.

Then, suddenly, his arms reached out to her, drawing her back into his embrace. His hands were low on her back and she leaned as she struggled to stay upright before grabbing the back of his head for support. His skin was warm, slick with sweat from the humidity of the temple. He held her eyes with his, shaking his head at her apologies.

“Solas, I-.”

He interrupted her, his lips collided with her, rougher than before, deeper as he pulled her into his kiss. His lips parted against hers as he eagerly invited her tongue, pressing his lightly to taste her. She grabbed his neck, clinging to him as he tilted his head, his breath hot against her face and his smell so masculine, so intoxicating. 

It was all too real, too much, so much of what she wanted, what she _needed_ , something she never realized until now.

Growing breathless, they pulled away and he rested his forehead against hers, letting her stand back upright but never letting go of his tight grasp, his fingers locked onto her hips. He lightly kissed her again, then let out a sigh.

“You change everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But for real, who would be invited to Fen'Harel's pool party? He'd throw the best shindigs.
> 
> Attempting this whole Elvhen thing. FenxShiral's amazing "Project Elvhen" as reference.
> 
> An’daran Atish’an- Greetings, Welcome, The place you go is a safe place  
> lethal’lin- Clan mate  
> Melava inan enansal, da’lath’in. - Time was once a blessing, little heart.  
> Nuva mar’shos’lahn’en ir’tel’dera Fen’Harel- May the Dread Wolf never hear your footsteps.


End file.
